Normality?

A grey day in which to work out what posts were April Fools, a grey day in which to get up late (rather as if my body had decided it hadn't changed its clock yet), a grey day in which to fall asleep over my morning's Italian exercises (and when you do that and you're working on your phone your finger falls on the screen and makes a mistake). I said to Himself last night that today would be one for relaxation - and he said I'd probably suffer from the anti-climax of it all and have what a military neighbour used to call "The Sads". All that. He was correct, of course - after more than half a century together we tend to know these things. The morning ended with only a new poem to show for it - though I have to say I'm pleased that after the lockdown-induced inability to write I'm back feeling I want to.

The day was rescued, as usual, by a walk. By the time we got out it was greyer than ever and there was a hint of rain in the air, but we headed away from the blustery coast and into Glen Massan - the photo today shows the upper glen, where we turned back, under the grey sky. Just after I took the photo, the afternoon took a turn for the better and became more interesting ...

I was fiddling with my phone (actually phoning Di, who was further up the glen: we'd just passed her car) when a car came down that road towards us - and drew up beside us, window open. The driver said something - I'm not sure quite what - and there began a surreal conversation in which, somehow, he asked what age we were and we found he was four months younger than me and had swum in the burn with his wife when they were younger and were staying in Blairmore on holiday and often did ... and were related to people we know ...

And I completed my phone call and we concluded our chat and he drove off. Only ... we came across his car halfway down the hill, parked next to the path leading to a pool in the burn  - and there he was, coming back up the hill as we passed. Sure enough, some ten minutes later he passed again - and stopped, and chatted some more, and then, to let another car pass, he drew into a lay-by and got out. And we talked and talked and he turned out to be an actor/presenter/ (Softly Softly, That's Life ...) and he was into music and jazz and somehow it was almost 6pm and raining quite steadily and we were standing with our heads among the branches of catkins and my eyes were streaming with hay fever and it was completely crazy. We eventually shook hands and parted most amicably - and I felt cheerier and it was time for dinner.

It's insanely late again, but it's been an unexpected sort of day for one that began with the mindless chatter of the dunnocks in the hedge.