We were warned ...

This fiery sky dragged me out of bed prematurely this morning - I couldn't really sit reading blips with my mug of tea with all this glory developing outside the window. No, I was up and down, hanging precariously out to avoid catching the edge of the open window on the right of the photo, and now I've found it so hard to decide whether to dazzle with the single fieryest moment or use a collage to show how it began that I've added said collage as an extra.

This, however, was as good as it got. By the time I was hanging out the sheets I'd so rashly washed - the last from our visitors last week - the clouds were moving over, there was no evidence of dramatic eclipses, and a tentative fine drizzle meant that everything was recklessly finished in the tumble drier. I also made two loaves through the day - it's rare that I time it so badly, but we like white toast for breakfast and brown bread later. (Fussy? Moi??)

We did eventually get out for a walk past the farms at Toward, just because we were both stiffening up after Pilates yesterday. We ate in the late afternoon, because of choir. And we watched snatches of the political soap opera and thought that maybe the new PM performs better without an autocue - yesterday he looked like the proverbial rabbit. Or maybe a Dalek.

The best bit of today has just happened. Choir was once more depleted - one alto was on holiday, another was socialising in a pub somewhere, and one of the two first sopranos has succumbed to Covid. But gosh, we sang well - there was fierce concentration, for a start, and wonderful unanimity of sound, much of which depends on vowels. We bounced out at the end of the rehearsal in the best of spirits; it's terrific when that happens and the lift to the spirits is unique.

I'm not eating toast and marmalade tonight - I have a new loaf to start!