Should I write about an ordinary day? May as well. It’s all I have.
Driving home last night, from Friday Night Club*, it occurred to me that driving through falling snow is a bit like being in the Millennium Falcon jumping to light speed. Not that I had Han Solo with me (I’m most evidently the wookie) more’s the pity, but it’s easy to imagine the snowflakes are stars.
Alas, the snow didn’t last. Despite a night cold enough that I needed to supplement the pet pile with a woolly hat (Nepal style; purchased in Brighton) the morning bought a grey, freezing day, with a few sad, melting white patches in the garden.
The camera battery had been charging up in preparation for a plethora of snowy shots. Given the garden vista however, instead of heading out into quiet beauty; I went back to bed. With a hobbit.
Later, following a mishap with porridge and the microwave – that called to mind the Magic Pudding story, and led to some Emergency Washing Up – we did venture out for our regular trip to Southend beach. It was bleak, barren and grey, which, interestingly, made the sand look startlingly orange. Being below freezing, we had the place to ourselves for most of the walk. Us, and a bunch of seagulls and oyster catchers for Lexi to chase. It pleases me that we live close to the sea. Even on a non-day grey-day like today, it was revitalising to have a stroll to take in the sea air. Tide was coming in.
As per the routine, we dried off/warmed up at Mum’s, where Lexi begged for a Bonio, and me for a few Rich Teas. Our visit was only slightly marred by the fact that Mum’s boxer Taya was having a day of Incredible Flatulence.
And now it’s the usual nothingeverhappens Saturday evening at home.
It’s not all dullness and gloom mind: the cat fell in the bath again. Every cloud…
* usual rules apply