After all those years ...
We've lived in this house for almost exactly 45 years. For every one of these years there has been at least one day, one hot summer's day, when I've wished we had some sort of sunshade because this spot just outside the back door, handy for lunch out of doors, handy for a quick seat in the sun, is actually a sun trap, and nowadays, with the pale rendered wall, it's hotter than ever. So - 45 years of saying "we really ought to get a sunshade of some sort..."
Until today. Daunted by the prospect of a spending whole summer here, rather gadding off somewhere else to fry, Mr PB ordered one online. He ordered a base. And today, within half an hour of each other, they arrived in our porch. So I'm blipping the moment of triumph when it all worked, fitted the space, provided tangible shade. Only rejoice ...
For the rest, we sat in the shade, we had lunch outside. We attended to phonecalls and emails from a bereaved husband in the south of England whose wife died here. Mr PB is dealing with music at some kind of service; I'm writing an obituary. It's not easy. So it was quite late when we finally decided to go out for a bit.
I had a hankering for the sea, rather than a hot hike, so at 6pm I found myself paddling halfway to Rothesay over firm sand in a low tide. Small waves showed that the Rothesay ferry had passed; they disturbed the empty sea urchin shells that littered the sand. Some discomfited terns screeched at me for invading their space. When I left the water, I had sand between my toes and salt drying on my legs and all was well with the world.
Our shopping for the week arrived at 8pm, and it was almost 9pm when we sat down to dinner. Salmon fillet with a topping of chilli pesto, brown breadcrumbs and lemon juice, done in a hot oven; new asparagus; samphire; Spanish-style rice. White wine. Delicious.
Now I'm reeling with the need to sleep. Duolingo is burst this evening; they're working on it but I can't do tonight's Italian lesson. It's probably just as well. Tomorrow is about to start.