Diary

I’m just going to plow on in without preamble.  You don’t need to know anything about me, you just have to be interested in reading somebody else’s diary.  And don’t judge a book by its cover; I might appear to be one thing when, in fact, I’m actually another.

 

It was a perfect day.  I was up early to take a walk down by the canal and it seemed I was the only person around until I noticed an elderly woman crouching in the hedgerow with her knickers around her ankles.  I’m not sure exactly which bodily function she was relieving herself of but it was obvious from the rapturous expression on her face that it had been a long time coming!  There were a couple of early morning dog-walkers as I climbed the hill back to my house, pausing briefly to buy some bread warm from the bakers oven.  I ate half the loaf as I walked; great chunks of doughy granary still pungent with the ripe aroma of fresh yeast.

 

A huge mug of coffee at my breakfast table, sitting by the open windows observing the sheep in the field beyond as they meandered aimlessly like the Fuzzy Felt farm animals I used to adore as a child.  I listened to Radio Four while I tidied the living room of detritus from last night’s drinking binge; nine garnet-stained wine glasses, six empty bottles and a few curled-up ham and chutney sarnies on a plate of crumbs.  Marrowfat sat in a patch of sunlight on the windowsill eyed me with idle curiosity.

 

I spent some time attending to my herb garden before lunch.  The garden is a riot of colour and the weather today made everything look brand new; luscious.  The crushed scent of herbs as I worked and the lazy drone of bumble bees momentarily reminded me of that summer in Tuscany all those years ago; Jack and Lucy tumbling through the olive groves with berry juice smeared around their lips.

 

A delicious lunch of rocket and dandelion with some chevre and the rest of my breakfast bread and then I walked in to town and wandered around by the river where a sizeable crowd of tourists had gathered to take in the sights.  I was feeling in a Joni Mitchell kind of mood so I got out my old albums when I got back home and sat in the deckchair listening to The Hissing of Summer Lawns.  Took me back to Art College.  Bliss.

 

And now it is late afternoon and time to think about preparing dinner.  Nobody to cook for but myself as Geoff is in Dusseldorf until Tuesday.  I’m thinking Shepherd’s Pie and mushy peas… and then I have the entire evening to myself.  How lucky am I?

BarmyCow BarmyCow
51-55, F
May 8, 2012