Pure poetry

Just returned from a beautiful weekend in Hang Zho... And as I have lost this year's digital camera (a canon ixus 700) decided that I would instead capture the essence and beauty of the weekend by writing a poem rather than take a picture... to that end I have to note a few key things that moved me... the afternoon sunlights as it creeped over the hillside and just managed to capture th tree trunks on the hillside. Then there was the little electric boats that carried -arrghe alas I am too drunk to get this down properly (indeed I apologise or the use of alas- but alan bennets alice in wonderland accompanies my daughter Matilda's slumber as it approaches and its flavour is quite contagious...) the boats carried young couples beneath the little canvas canopies, and the funny rubberised steeringwheels whose use affected little the orientation of the boats as the wind was strong and most boats had ended up in the nook at the end of the lake and then struggled to get away to any purpose from the dull corner of the lake in which they found themselves... also I remember the groups of capped pensioners, or grouped pensioners, or smiling pensioners- all grouped and boating or walking and usually smiling, spitting and shouting or all of the above... also after my morning walk to the top of the mountain behind our hostel, equiped only with my son whose early waking precipitated such a walk, which encouraged me to think on the nature of man's obsession with walking up to or over things- as on my walk at 6am I encountered huge numbers of walking fellow morning risers, all either returning from or tramping towards the peak of the mount- enough already...