Bright days

After a week or so of this sunny weather - give or take a haar there or a greyish morning here - it's hard to know what to say about it, or to think what to do to make the most of it. This morning was actually quite cool and cloudy, so I did ordinary, indoorsy things like two chatty phone calls, like stewing prunes in tea with maple syrup and star anise (for breakfasts), like stewing some rhubarb and bunging it in the fridge till we've finished the strawberries ... And I did four Italian lessons and struggled dreadfully with the gerunds. It's not just the form of the verb - it's Duolingo's quirky translations and Americanisms that it expects as answers. Ah well - it's free ...

By the time I'd done all this, the sun was out and five minutes sitting in the full sun convinced me that though I'd felt quite chilly in the study, I was going to fry and would be better if I let Himself put up the sunshade while I scraped together some lunch. Later on, we both found ourselves gardening, crazily, as the sun beat down - he cut and strimmed the grass; I pulled off the dead flowers from the London Pride and other things that catch your ankles as you try to go down the path.

I ended up back down the road having a swim. Today I found a bit of beach that didn't run into rocks and weed before I had depth in which to swim, so I managed several lengths, as it were, all the time keeping an eye open for two loons on jet skis, towing a tube with one of their pals in it. The noise and the smell of the machines were bad enough, let alone the horrid feeling that they might not notice a head in the water, so I kept having to stand up and go back out when they went into shore. I hereby declare jet skis the invention of the devil ...

We finished  off with a brief walk out the Ardyne path, just because we'd not lingered on the jet ski beach. That's where the photo comes from - the tide is so far out that there are acres of wet sand showing. If you look carefully you can see three people in the water and another two halfway up the beach - most of them were small children having a ball. 

Watched the news tonight - terrifying fires in Western USA and Canada - and thought of my friends in both places. There are fire warnings here too, and I notice lightning set two houses alight in England, but as far as I can see we're not due rain till midweek. 

A closing note: all through lockdown and the subsequent periods of restrictions, I've revelled in the silence of the evenings. As I write this, I can hear the drunken laughter of some kids heading along the crescent past my house, and reflect that we are indeed back to normal - some of us at least. Shall I protest?