Seeing more, hearing more

It's Sunday afternoon. Having taken most of the day to get started, birds are singing in the street as the light fades. I've only noticed because my desk is getting dingier and the pool of light from the lamp has become too small. I need to turn the overhead light on. The mist hasn't lifted all day. When I was running, the sky and the still river were the same grey, so the river looked as if it flowed straight into the sky.

It seemed quieter than an average Sunday. I noticed the footbridge over the weir squeaks rhymically as you run over it, and carries on alone as you run up the slope on the other side. Some eights were out, and they must have been better crews than I was ever in. They slipped up behind us with only a couple of audible strokes of the blades, and then silently glided past. In an unbalanced boat there is always the chaotic noise of water on blades as the boat is tipped to one side or the other. I remember how perfect it felt, the first moment we balanced the boat and heard only the hull slicing through the river.

I'm working through the activities from Chapter 3 today and the focus is on 'writing what you know' and trying to make use of all your senses in your writing. I think it has made me notice more in daily life, as my run helped me see.