Tuesday 1st June 2021

The sun rises so far to the east now, that it is hidden by next door's house, so laying in bed, its hard to tell if its sunny or not outside. Its only when you walk to the back of the house, and look across The Dip do you see the warm sunshine, casting long shadows across the fields, mking the air seem to be filled with particles of light, so thick you could cut it with a knife and spread it on a scone.

Sadly, the new month dawning meant that my apparently endless holiday had come to an end, and I had to log back on at seven, if I could remember the password.

Jools had been up a while, so I stumbled about, drank a coffee, and just like that she was gone.

Leaving me and all four of the cats, for a while, alone. In theory, I was in charge.

I do log on, and after downloading various updates, was able to start work, starting with calls to my colleagues, only to find that the first one, Flemming, had resigned last week. He doesn't have the stomach for the fight ahead. I wish him well.

Henrik is fine, always is, but I can tell from his voice that he is pretty fed up too. To make it clear, I can fill my days up with stuff, non-work stuff, if I'm honest. Maybe I should just give up too.....

I should have been doing data analysis, but the data has not been supplied. Which is fine, I can tackle the e mails, and decide that I will go travelling next week, to visit our site in the north east, a fibe day road trip, away from the dining room table. I had to convince my boss there was a good work reason for going, and not just because its orchid season and there being some reserves nearby. That's just a coincindence.

Poppy went out for a second time, and as I am writing this on Wednesday, and she has not come back yet. She has been gone for 36 hours before a couple of times, but this is not down to Scully, who has slept through most of the day today. Its a worry.

I try to get data sent to me, but my colleague is at her daughter's graduation, so is out of office. And there is getting access to the new Team site on Teams, which hasn't happened.

I find other stuff to do, mainly track down some errant certificates from courses that I had mispaced; could the examination body send replacements? Yes, yes they can.

At half three, I go out for a walk, and the wife of Martin, two doors down, stops to speak. I have not seen her to speak to since we have lived her for over 12 years. She wanted to talk, we talk about all sorts, mostly wildlife and stuff seen in our gardens, and our cats, who she adores.

I do get away, and was a way along the street when this happened:

What are you doing, the man snapped.

Taking photographs.

What of.

Flowers, that path.

Why.

Because I want to, I just live down there, and have lived on this street for 11 years.

Okay, he growled.

Okay I snapped back.

No need to be rude he replied, not joking.

What an assmonkey.

He is using the hedge along the lane as his own compost heap, maybe I should have asked him what he thought he was doing?

I walk on with him following me wheeling his barrow full of clippings to dump in the hedge.

I walk on. Over the field, where another neighbour passes me and asks what I was hoping to snap: butterflies and flowers I say, though remark that the breeze might make butterflies tricky if any were out.

Everywhere is decorated with the champagne fizz of cow parsley, having exploded since I last walked around here. It's so warm, it's nearly hot, and so with the flowers out, feels like summer. Which it nearly is, really.

My back aches, so I turn back at Fleet House, back along Collingwood, passing yet more hedgerows, back down into our street where there were Mulder and Scully waiting for dinner. Meow.

Meow indeed.

I feed them, but they're not really hungry.

I make garlic bread wth some of a jar of pickled Garlic Flowers sent by a friend in Canada, I mix the garlic bith butter, spread on the sliced sourdough and grate some cheese on top before baking for 15 minutes until golden brown and crispy.

The main dish is caprese, which is fine, tasty and light. And agan, there is no wine or beer.

Yay me.

There is also no football, so once cleared up and coffee made, we dunk chocolate chip cookies into coffee, slurp the sludge while the radio burbles. There is a new PSB single to enjoy.

Its alright, this life of ours.