Tuesday 7th April 2020

In yet another universe, I would be in Birkenhead conducting an audit, having travelled up by train the day before. I had the whole trip planned, including visiting my friend, Magnus, who lives on the Wirral.

And then it all went to shit.

First of all, no travel, then on Monday evening, I get a call saying the audit by Skype would have to be cancelled due to an issue.

So it goes, so it goes.

I had kept my calendar clear for months for the trip, and now; nothing. And come Tuesday morning there was little to replace that audit.

Being a Tuesday, Jools was to go into the office, so there is the usual blur of activity as she gets ready to leave, a quick peck on the cheek and she is gone. I go upstairs and listen to a combination of Prince and Kate Bush; how wonderful it would have been had they made a record together, but no, just half of his record then the first side of Hounds of Love.

That done, I am in no rush to get started with work, so I sit outside to cool down, and the warm early morning sun fell on my face. Sunrise is now 06:15, just before I go to work out, and rises so far to the east now that it is barely visible as next door's house gets in the way.

I make breakfast, set up the office and get ready for a day at the coalface, but as you know, most of Denmark is on holiday already. So after catching up on the previous day's mail, I am all caught up.

As Jools was to have a yoga session when she got home and dinner was to be after that, I decide I needed an extra meal, so have toast and marmalade and a fresh brew before nine in the morning.

Time weighs heavy on me, so at half ten I decide to go for a walk. And despite living here for a decade or more, I had walked on the fields behind Walletts Court on only three occasions, so what better thing to do?

I could see from the office at the back of the house, the field was dotted with yellow, maybe these would be revealed as Cowslips rather than dandelions.

Anyway, would be some more phys, and a walk is never wasted.

So I walk to the end of the street, turn down the hill, past the new house and up the hill beyond, trying my best to do the hill without stopping for a breather. Along Dover Road to the gate leading to the large field on the down.

The path leads up a wartime paved road to a gate, where just beyond are three old ammunition storehouses, one on a raised concrete platform, as there used to be a railway that rain through there for the large rail mounted guns.

Beyond that the field opened up, and the yellow revealed themselves to be hundred and hundreds of dandelions. Nothing else. Just dandelions.

I walk up the gently sloping down to the edge of the field, I could see it continue towards the old RAF Swingate site, wonder where that goes? I will investigate.

Instead of turning straight back, I sit in the long grass and watch the world pass by.

A lone buzzard circles overhead, moving from the Duke of Yorks towards our house away down the hill.

I realise I could quite happily sit here all day. And watch the world go by.

But I should get back, so climb to my feet and walk to the gate, down the track and into the village to the top of Station Road.

Back home after just over an hour, and nothing had happened.

So, that's all good.

I make myself a toasted cheese sandwich, a fresh brew, and go to sit in the garden to soak up some rays.

As a bonus, WSC had been delivered, so lots of football related stuff to catch up on.

Jools mails me to let me know she wasn't doing yoga, so I have to think about dinner. Not before doing another session on the cross trainer, which sees me listening to side 2 of Hounds of Love, the Ninth Wave. This pushes me to do nearly 25 minutes.

It was hot. Damned hot.

But I did it.

So, after a shower and then getting dressed, time to prepare dinner: courgette fritters. I shred the courgettes, squeeze the water out, then add the other ingredients, each time they taste different, which I guess is OK. I end with grating a nutmeg before mixing the gloop up ready for frying.

Jools comes home, I light the gas ring and am soon elbow deep in frying, but they smell delicious, and indeed are wonderful when they are all cooked and we cruch down on our first fritters each, dipping them first in garlic mayo.

I make two and a half glasses of red plonk vanish. But then again, I am magic.

By half seven we are done, drink a coffee and it seems too late to do anything else. So, we listen to the radio and soon it is time for bed.

Might do some reading first, though.