Monday 12th July 2021

Back to work.

And the morning after the night before.

Colleagues and friends who thought my mood might not be the best after England lost, were to be disappointed. I wanted England to win, but if they didn't, it wouldn't ruin my life either. And it hasn't.

Didn't.

As next door were going to have a celebration party if England won, when I went to bed I put ear plugs in, meaning I slept through the alarm, Jools getting up, boiling the kettle, getting dressed and I only heard her when she drove the car up the drive. It was half five.

I thought it was nearly seven.

Groan.



I get up and go downstairs and find the coffee pot is all filled up and ready to go. Jools is wonderful. So, I make coffee and check on the interwebs and find that the three players who missed their penalties had been abused online. They all happen to be black. And showing the world and PM and Home Secretary in particular that the taking of the knee was needed after all.

Not that they care.

Maybe, one day, things will change. One day.

I listen to a podcast, and I realise in six weeks it will be my time to be interviewed on the history of my music tastes purchases. If only I had something to show them on the development of my changing tastes through the eighties......

Maybe they will appreciate the book when the BBC didn't?

We shall see.

Anyway, to work, and check the e mails, and I find that IT is working, or the IT that I needed worked. And outside rain tippled down. It bears repeating that this is the driest part of the country, and usually between mid-April and into July we hardly get any rain, which is why we have 900 water butts to collect rain water so the plants and ponds don't run out. No worries on that front this year, and Monday brought another half inch or so. Or in metric, very nearly an armful.

But I have cats. And coffee.

The cats bother me for food, and something they call "meow". I offer them more food, and they seem happy enough.

Cleo and Poppy take turns to have elevensis on the stairs, crunching on kitty kibbles as I try to concentrate in a meeting.

I take videos, and they view me over their invisble glasses I imagine them to be wearing.

"What now, hooman?"

Its funny, on Sunday there was international cricket, grand prix racing (probably), the Wimbledon Men's Singles Final, Le Tour and the Final of the Euros. And on Monday? Nowt.

But I had work, oh yes, silly me.

The rain continues, but does ease, so a mist rises, and then some sea fog. All the weather. In one day.

Just no sun.

I venture into the garden to fill the bird feeders, just rubbing against the large grasses, I get wet. But the birds tweet their thanks, I imagine, at there being more seeds and peanuts to feat on and feed the kids with.

Just me an my imagination, keeping me entertained.

I finish work, and prepare dinner: ultimate fish cakes. Does that mean they'll be the last fish cakes ever? Tesco should tell us. I cook noodles and sweet chilli stir fry to go with them, and pretty darn good I have to say. And again I skip a beer or wine.

It is a quiet evening, we do the usual; liten to the radio, I write, so that by nine came round, we were ready for bed.

And that was that.