Father's Day

My Dear Fellows & Dear Princess,

I don't know if you can tell from this picture, but this is the light reflecting off trees as the sun goes down over the botanic gardens.

I think I am very lucky to have the walk home that I do. It is usually very peaceful, unless I am encumbered by two bags of shopping and a shedload of American tourists.

(This happens more often than you would think).

There is not very much to say about today. Work was okay, if you exclude the part where I have to get out of bed and wear actual clothes. Other than that, it's all fine. 

In fact, this reminds me; when I was a teenager my dad would always say, "Getting up is the worst part of the day over with," and then he would dance about. He is a little ray of sunshine in the morning, is my dad. 

To be honest, as a teenager I could have done without it. It was EXHAUSTING, and completely untrue by the way. Anyone who thinks getting up is the worst part of the day, never had double German with Mrs. Johnston* in the afternoon. 

But yet. Here I am, older now than he was then, and I see his point. I get there eventually. I quite enjoy my days these days. And even work can be sort of fun if you have a dancing father in your mind.

And if I've gone off on a Tom-related tangent today, my excuse is that it is his birthday. Happy birthday, ye daft auld beggar.

S.

* She was like the devil. If the devil were more of a dick about it.