Familiar things.

The coooooo-coo-coooooo-coo of collar doves

The sun on the patio and mossy slightly singed lawn

The garden that could compete with any at Kew

Thanks to her skill and dedication.

His whistling, singing, endless hybrid soundtrack

Mozart?

Beatles?

Can’t quite tell and maybe neither would they.

Crunching on the gravel of the driveway.

Onto the pavement and round past the houses, up in twos

From 24 and round to 38

Peeking to see if Kirsty’s in.

The White Hill Heath loop

Gravel, gorse, heather, pines

And the threat of sunbathing adders

Never actually witnessed.

The hazy shimmer and near-distant outline of the Isle of Wight

Old Harry and the soothing briny waters of Studland Bay

The sands busier than ever

But if we just walk a BIT further along the beach, it won’t be so crowded.

This is home, still

12 years out of 52

But something familiar

Where family are.

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