Tuesday 30th July 2019

Our ancient forbears realised that the sun rose in a slightly different direction each morning, and set in a different place too.

Maybe its because I spent the first 40 or so years with my eyes closed, but I only realised this myself since moving to St Maggies.

I mid-winter, the sun rises almost due south, to the back of the house, rising red and angry just after breakfast either side of mid winter.

And between May and the end of July, the rising sun floods into the spare room, illuminating the curtains with warm light. But as we go into August, only the slightest rays of the rising sun now show up, as the sun moves ever southwards each morning. Soon, the morning sun will strike the south side of the house first. And so the year marches on, soon the sun with be noticeably lower in the sky each day, its rays shining through flower petals rather than on.

It is still, just, July, and so still high summer. Schools are out and the roads jammed.

And I am working from home.

I slept through the alarm, but Jools was already making coffee when I cam to. Nothing like laying in bed, smelling the freshly brewed coffee creeping up the stairs.

Hell yes.

Jools has coffee, we talk about the day, and soon she is off to work, and I sigh and take myself to the spare room to do another session on the cross trainer, putting the i pod on and programming some tunes. The session ended up with Tessie by the Drop Kick Murphys, I double my efforts and pump lard harder.

That doen, I have a shower, make another coffee and am ready for work right on time.

Thing is, as I extract myself from the project, there is more my replacement takes off me, and less for me to do, which is fine. I make busy and do stuff.

Come midday, I am so caught up, I go to the sofa to watch second half of the last stage of Le Tour, the cyclists ending up riding into the light of the setting sun, shining through the arch of Le Arc de Triomphe, it is iconic, and causes goosebumps, as the race ends for another year, though I have seen just six stages this year.

By the time it is done, and work loose ends tied up, it is four and time to end for the day.

Our neighbour, Diane comes round. It is over a year since she lost Bob, but time heals, some, and she is looking tanned having just returned form holiday in Greece. She is smiling and has a sparkle in her eye, which is great.

Jools comes home and we have dinner, its been 24 hours since then, and I have forgotten what we had, but couldn't have been half bad, as we're still here.

And in preparation for the first away trip of the season, I try to book two return tickets to that Liverpool.

An hour it took, on two websites operated by two different companies that offered the same tickets at £118 return and £238 return, same ticket, same train, same days.

Madness.

But the details are all set now, just need someone to look after the cats, but we shall see.

And then, I watch City's latest pre-season game on You Tube. The slump to a 4-1 defeat to Atalanta, who qualified for the Champions League last season. First half, City played well, but in the second, silly mistakes and many changes and they lost their shape. Doesn't matter, but a loss hurts.