Play Misty for me ...
I can't help noticing the lovely sunny days other people elsewhere in the country are having - not only on Blip, but also in the likes of Alistair Campbell's rants on Insta when he's out for a walk these mornings. We were again under a thin layer of damp cloud today; it's a bit like living on top of a mountain. It makes it easy to sit in bed drinking tea and catching up on my phone when I should be getting up when outside is a greyish gloom.
Today I forgot to make bread for lunch, so we ended up eating oatcakes again with more smoked salmon deliciousness from Himself's birthday - paté this time, and jolly good too. I told myself I'd earned it with some hard work creating slides for my first poetry workshop next week - how could I have forgotten so much in six months? (Not about poetry, but about Apple's Keynote app...)
Later, when I'd roused myself from a stupor that may have been exacerbated by my having taken two propranolol tablets instead of one this morning, we went out in the damp to Benmore Gardens so that I could get my circulation going again peching up the hill. It was intensely quiet; the only sound was an owl among the trees and the faint chink of a hoof that alerted me to the presence of three smallish deer picking their delicate way across the hillside just above our path - a sure sign that we were the only people anywhere near.
Blipping the pond in the gloaming, with the mallard couple gliding away towards the island, disturbing the still black surface with their wake.
Do you think the Tory party should be renamed the Sorry party?
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