Monday 30th July 2018

And back to work. And back to work with there being rain again outside, literally water falling from the sky. The garden is still brown, however.

And it is cool, cold enough even to close some of the windows, but this is only temporary, as more sunshine is expected from Tuesday afternoon into the weekend.

But there is always work. Always work.

The weekend always seems to go by so quick, can we not have three day weekends to get everything squeezed in? I like the idea of being able to reduce to a four day week or something.

We can but dream.

I get down to work at eight, and the never ending summer holiday in DK enters its third week, with very few of us about, which means those of us who have tasks can actually get them done.

I had slept badly, however, and with less than four hours sleep, on top of what I missed in the hot weather last week, I was running on empty. I knew that at some point a migraine was likely, and even with limiting my time at the computer, it would come in time.

In between tasks online, I prepare and bake a limoncello and grappa tart, filled with two punnets of raspberries, and laced with 150ml of Italian liqueurs. Once baked, I let it cool in the over before moving ot to the fridge to chill, and be able to be cut for desert in the evening.

The migraine came just after half one, I set an out of office message and switch the laptop off, and go to bed to lie in the dark.

The afternoon passed.

At four, I go for a walk. Just over the fields to see what was in flower, and maybe to see some butterflies. And was rewarded with the most butterfly-filled walk, ever.

Across the fields to the footpath between the trees and garden fences, and in the buddleia there were Gatekeepers, Commas, Holly Blues, a Peacock, A Small Tortoiseshell, Red Admirals, and on the way back I saw what looked like a large Comma, but was a Fritillary, a Silver Washed Fritillary.

I watched it circle, then settle on a leaf right in front of me, so I snap away like crazy, and I also snap several Commas too, and Common Blues in the glade just along the path.

Well worth the walk out.

I meet a neighbour on the way back, he was walking his dog, so I asked him about why they are selling their house, as the for sale board has been up a few months. Well, he says, I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer, there are only for areas of my body it hasn't been found.

There are no words, of course.

He is OK with it, well as can be expected, and his treatment seems to have stopped its advance. They told me to stay out of the sun, but how much worse can it get, he joked. Indeed.

We have the shoarma that we did not eat on Sunday, for dinner, with some boiled corn and the rest of the runner beans from out garden, although some had gone a tad stringy.

Still good though.

And as darkness fell, I cut the tart, made fresh coffee, and sat down to sample what I had created. And it was wonderfully rich and fruity. And boozy.