Haymaking

I have some lovely, slightly crazy friends who manage to be out walking and taking photos of the sunrise like the ones I take from my bedroom window having just crawled out of bed, only theirs are taken from sea level and sometimes from almost in the sea ... and this morning was one of these perfect sunrise mornings, even if it was only about 5ºC, and I slept late. Of course I did - what else do you do when you've been blipping at midnight? Besides, I was having an extraordinary dream in which I was in the last throes of labour ...

However, at least the sun and the brightness encouraged me, once I'd shaken off the delivery room torpor, to get up and do something sensible - in this case taking the bedspread off the spare bed and shoving it in the washing machine, hanging it out between the porridge and the toast. (No, not that between). I cleaned the sink. I provided a sub-head for the publicity for my next talk online. I made and consumed coffee and I finally got out. Only along the road to the health shop for more bread flour, but at least I was out under the brilliant blue sky, marvelling at how it changes everything.

I also managed not to fall asleep after lunch - and, just as importantly, persuaded Himself not to either. This meant we could get down the road to Loch Striven for a walk before it was really too late, and I chose well. The rowans were amazing, the bracken golden and russet, the sky blue, and a buzzard flew right over our heads, close enough for us to look straight up at the markings under the wings. Himself turned back because of his back, though not soon enough to prevent it doing its thing again; I marched on and turned at the old schoolhouse. I had been aware of an increasingly nagging pain on the surface of my foot - was it my newish trainers that I had thought broken in to my needs? Eventually I came to a rusty fence that presumably was erected to prevent the unwary from falling onto the shore below, so I propped my foot on it and took off the shoe only to see a blob of blood wicking into the bamboo (I know - posh socks). I don't actually know how this happened, whether I pierced my foot randomly last evening (I have a vague notion ...) or if in fact the ever-increasing size of my big toe joint is causing friction where non previously existed. Jolly sore anyway - I was glad to get back to the car and take the shoe and sock off.

And this was the last good discovery: when you don't fall asleep after lunch, the afternoon lasts for long enough to do a big lump of Italian lessons before dinner, and even leaves time for a glass of wine and some nibbles while Himself prepares the curry. Result!

Blipping my sitting room as we never sit in it, first thing in the morning with the sunshine. Unless we're having a singing session, I tend not to be in here until the evening, which is a pity. I thought it looked rather gorgeous. And it's not too untidy ...