Monday 7th February 2022

Back to work.

We did a lot over the weekend, meaning it seemed longer than if we would have sat around doing nowt.

But back to work, and back to the usual battles and indifference.

It is still dark in the mornings, of course, when we get up. But on a clear morning there is soon a line of light along the horizon. I look out of the bathroom window, and I see a planet low in the sky due south. Its's dark red, so I assume it to be Mars, but a look on a websife reveals it to be Venus, just appeared red as it was low in the sky. It brightened and turned white as dawn approached.

Jools went for a walk along the estate, so I went and made some bread, kneaded it and put in a tin to rise. It was sitting on the windowsill when Jools returned, already rising. I would just have to remember it was there, so it doesn't turn into a doughmonster.

And on to work.

I fire up the laptop, not much is happening, I empty the inbox, send out replies and cancel a meeting for two weeks time.

Easy.

Jools returns, changes her shoes and is gone again, this time to work. I put the kettle on and check on the bread for the 100th time.

Still good, rising, but not overflowing.

At ten, I put it in the oven, set the timer and get back to work, half an hour passes and I take the loaf out of the tin, bake for 5 more mintes to crisp up the bottom, and who doesn't like a crisp bottom?

Indeed.

I check in the garden and find a single Winter Aconite in flower, being serviced by a sleepy fly. I take their picture. I have fresh still warm bread and apricot jam for lunch, which was every bot as good as it sounds, and come half two, nearly three I call it a day for walk, and go for a walk.

I go over the field where the farmer has put up nice signs asking people stick to the paths and not walk on his field so to damage crops. Those nice people have smashed the signs.

So nice.

Down past the farm and up the long climb to Windy Ridge, pasing for ten minutes or so to sit on the bench overlooking the fields. I could see all the way down to Kingsdown and the Channel beyond, and a brown area marked where the Goodwin Sands poked about the waves.

I go through the wood hoping to see some spring flowers, but there's none, not even a sprouting bluebell. Although the Laurel Spurge is in fine form.

I walk though the wood, then turn to home, down the hill to Collingwood, then back across the field, using the track, to our street and home.

Back home for four, the sun was getting low, but cloud had swept in and hidden the blue sky, so the light quickly faded. Back inside I rustle up a batch of courgetter fritter batter, all ready to go once Jools got home near six.

I cook the fritters, so they come out crispy, and are cooling on a plate for when Jools returns.

For once there is no football to watch, so we have the radio on. Jools goes upstairs to read her book, and the evening passes quietly.