Which, of course, meant Mulder woke me at half five in the morning (BST) meaning it was really half four (GMT), trying to climb out of the bedroom window.
I laid in bed, but sleep would not come, so I was out of bed well before quarter to six, fed the cats, made coffee and checked on the world.
Outside the rain hammered down as predicted, this meant no walking, no photography and no music.
Not only was there very little club football, there was none of our favourite radio shows on 6 Music as they had a festival, meaning all the things I filled up my weekends with were not happening.
The day spread out before me like very thinly spread margarine. Stork Marg at that, too.On top of that, although Jools was coming home, I had no idea when she was leaving nor when she would be back, so time weighed heavy.
Though I filled the day with something.
Writing, editing shots, breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, lunch afternoon tea.
The rain continued to fall outside.
At one, or just past, I called Jools. She was on the road, on the A34 heading north to the m40. I checked traffic all round the M25 for her and advised her the way to go.
She'd be back at about four, I guessed. Better keep the kettle freshly boiled, just in case.
I got a call at three, she was crossing the Thames on the bridge, would be going down the A2, so would be about an hour.
She arrived back at quarter past four. We swapped our muddy horror stories, then she told us of preparing pigeon, trout and rabbit for their dinners. She did the fish but could not do the others.
They had built shelters, made fire (several ways, and did the kind of things folks used to do before we had Tesco. Though modern knives were used.
Go figure.
She had a great time, though was wet, muddy and very tired. After supper of pizza and beer, she was in bed at half seven and slept through for 11 hours.,
No comments:
Post a Comment