After an Allegri's 'Miserere' start - that beautiful yellow through palest lime green, duck egg blue to something darker to indigo - the sky had acquired a wispy scarf of pink chiffon by the time I was returning from the shop. Clichéd indeed but I was reminded of me as a child, gazing into a centrifuge of spun sugar, as candyfloss magically formed, seemingly from nothing.
I remembered too the way it turned sickly, on the stick, clogged and disgustingly deep in colour, and was seemingly always eaten on a windy day when hair could be guaranteed to become clotted with it, the teasing out of which was painful.
Today's sky has continued beautiful however, at least for one hour more.
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