The framer's house

This looks like more of a bookmark (of the non-electronic type) than a blip.

I have come home from work with a song in my head. Unfortunately it is "I like to eat, eat, eat apples and bananas" which parents or carers of preschoolers may recognise. The day has felt exceedingly long. On Fridays I do two jobs, with hardly a gap in between, and with wo different challenging client groups. In my aromatherapy class, one of the girls still seems to be worried about "witchcraft". She could not possibly have drawn any inferences from the length of my nose or the fact that I flew in on a broomstick, could she? Another girl is sighing, flopping, and rolling her eyes, and asking "Do I have to write a label?"

The highlight of the second job today was that a mobile shredding unit arrived to collect confidential papers, to be shredded in the portable shredder on the truck, before being driven away. I asked to photograph it, and attempted to do so, but the operator said that members of the public were no longer allowed inside the truck, for reasons that can be imagined. So I got some shots of the truck, but not the nitty-gritty, ready-steady-shreddies that I wanted.

After work, CleanSteve and I went to a wonderful ramshackle house on the hillside, where a friend of his is housesitting. I got some good shots of a geranium, and their jardin perché with a view over Butterow, but it was a bit of a rushed visit, because a small crisis was brewing in the friend's life, and he needed to get back to Skype. So, instead of a lorry or a garden, I present this house to you.

Every time I have passed it lately, the lace curtain has been blowing in the wind. At least three times I have noticed it. So, like yesterday's blip, the third or fourth time a subject gets noticed, it gets blipped. Because the seasons will change, and the window will not always be open, and I may not have even two minutes to spare to take that shot.

Nelson Street leads down across Cornhill to the High Street, the main shopping street. This house is owned by O, the picture framer, and is next to the modern building of the church of the Latter Day Saints. It's one of those houses that is so tall and narrow that I cannot bear to contemplate, even in fantasy, living there. My sister TMLHereandThere complains that everything she wants is in her other house, on a different continent. I, too, imagine that everything I'd ever want in that shabby green house ( the bathroom, for example, or the kettle) would turn out to be on the other floor, or the other...

Incidentally, it was very hard to frame this shot of the framer's house! I have ended up with a very long narrow crop, like the house itself.