Last night a perigee moon nearly landed on the South Downs way. Boy, that would have been a sight to see. As it was, I could almost touch it but here is a curious one; it wasn't smiling! There was no face, no man in the moon, no familiar frown or pursed lip pout, just a big, fat blob of buttery joy, rippling on the sea, guiding the ferry crossing the channel all the way to France. All the way to France, all the way away from here to there, all the way to dance with Oscar Wilde and Baudelaire - and watching the buttery old moon got me thinking, I wish I was there not here...
