There’s nothing as timeless as a sundial – though I know that’s a contradiction. I love seeing those giant ones you get on ancient towers in cities, the small ones in gardens…
This one is in my own garden. And yes, we use it to tell the time when we’re not wearing watches, don’t have our phones in our pockets, and can’t be bothered going indoors to check. It works well – so long as the sun is shining.
Which reminds me of the solar-powered water feature we bought when I had my cable-cutting “incident” at the beginning of the summer. That only worked when the sun was shining, too, which meant on one of those days when the sky was full of scudding clouds, it was on, off, on, off – drove us nuts, and the birds looked a bit bewildered, too. Mr F. Ed has put an ordinary motor in that one now.
Words on the sundial
Anyway, back to the sundial. [Which I’ve noticed I need to reset.] The wording around this one is sweet: Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be. [Actually, I’ve never checked whether it’s just one of those sayings or if it’s from a poem. I should do that. No doubt one of you will know.] This one was a wedding anniversary gift, which adds sentiment to it for Mr Fiction Ed and I.
And I bet your wee wheelies are already spinning away on story ideas. Excellent!
In other news, places for our two workshops have filled up fast. York has only one seat left – though I have a feeling in my bones that the final application for that one will arrive on Monday. And we’ve just four left for Glasgow. Last chance to book is the booking form in the July 28 issue. It’s been great to see how popular these still are.
Stop Press: York now full. Glasgow very limited availability.
STOP PRESS: BOTH DATES NOW FULLY BOOKED