Do not let Sunday be taken from you. If your soul has no Sunday, it becomes an orphan.
Unusually for me I leapt from bed like a salmon making for the spawning grounds this morning. I haven’t actually discovered a new enthusiasm for 5 am, I just overslept until the back-up alarm went off at 5.25. That left me with 35 minutes to get up and get Julia to work. Assuming that I get my socks on first shot and don’t get into a fight with my trousers, this is plenty of time as there is no traffic at that time of day.
Fortunately my clothing cooperated and all went well.
Just after 6.00 I was back home and catching up on WordPress reading. At 7.00 my alarm alerted me to the opening of the launderette. I have to set alarms these days as my memory is not great and I tend to nap at inconvenient times. After loading the big machine for a hot wash I had 59 minutes to kill, which I accomplished with breakfast at McDonalds, writing a shopping list and making holiday plans for September.
I haven’t been to Burntstump Country Park for five years or so; it used to have a pond with a colony of water voles. They were pushed out by rats, and I never felt as good about visiting after that. Today, I thought, was a good day for a visit. It wasn’t.
The woodland was full of birdsong and I even saw the occasional bird, despite the best efforts of assorted dog walkers loudly calling their dogs, training their dogs and squeezing squeaky toys at their dogs. It seems to be a favoured meeting place for people with loud voices and badly trained dogs.
They weren’t, before anyone jumps in, doing anything illegal. Individually they weren’t even that obtrusive, just a bit noisy and disruptive to my attempts at bird photography. Unfortunately there were dozens of them. Some worked in ones and twos, others formed a group in the middle of the park and made a lot of noise. Another group, numbering dozens, if not hundreds, gathered for a massed walk. It was canine bedlam.
I shopped on the way home, ate lunch (prepared by Number Two son) and watched Sharpe. King Solomon’s Mines then came on. I liked the book, but the Patrick Swayze film could be bottled and sold as a cure for insomnia. It worked for me.
Having picked Julia up from work we bought ice cream on the way home and are currently winding down. I’n good at winding down.