Thursday 28th May 2020

Work.

But, you know it pays for everything else.

So, we have to do it, until we can afford not to, too ill to or dead.

I plan to enjoy at least some of my life in retirement.

But for now, there is work.

With the bank holiday and 5 day weekend, my phys program was out of whack, I should have done some phys, but decide to have a rest day, which means, in theory, I have an hour to procrastinate in the morning and still be prepared for starting work at half seven. But, as always, I listen to something on the radio, or a podcast, and I scramble to set the computer up and be ready for the meeting.

We are all still well. And in Denmark they have a three day weekend to look after.

I don't.

So, we have the meeting and I spend the morning updating the audit database, creating cases and so cross-referencing them with activities.

I am a busy boy.

I have lunch; cheese toasties, as they are da bomb. A brew.

And I ponder how to fill the afternoon.

I make calls and arrange meetings for next week, and that takes another couple of hours.

And at three, I go for a walk. I decide Windy Ridge should be the destination. You know the way by now, over the fields to Fleet House and the pigs. I take no shots, instead wait until I look out from in front of the copse over the Kingsdown and the sea.

From there, down past the farm and the long drag up the the wood.

I see nothing new or of interest, really, just glorious to be out, the wind in my hair and the sky full of larks singing.

I reach the top of the climb and take the lane beside it. I realise I have never been down this lane, or this part of it. It is green and overgrown, like the half I had already walked down.

But I take shots anyway.

I walk on, to the lane leading down the down, down to Collingwood.

I did spot a couple of Speckled Wood butterflies, and i got a fairly decent shot of the woodland butterfly basking on a leaf in sunlight.

And down to home, where there is a glass of iced squash to be made and drunk.

Phew.

No chance of the session on the cross trainer my mind had toyed with. Instead I go for a shower and feel human again.

Dinner is aubergine again, coast with panko, and is wonderful, and I have it all cooked as Jools walks in the door, so all she has to do is pour the wine.

She is finished for the weekend, and I have just six hours or so on Friday.

As usual, the evening is quiet; radio and writing. Too chilly to sit outside, so we nurse the last brews of the days as the evening slips by.