Worth the wait

Another drearily wet day, although redeemed in prospect by a forecast of dryness at teatime. Having slept the sleep of the drugged last night, I found it hard to get up, and breakfast, as is often the way, segued into coffee before I'd noticed. I had, however, managed to poach some pears with honey while chatting on the phone to my pal, who, released from quarantine, was driving into the signal-less wilds of Tighnabruaich to play recorder duets - we're eccentrically civilised in these parts, you know.

Perked up somewhat by the coffee (and a bit of cake - shhh) I tackled the rest of the slides for the online version of my Poetry and Faith talk which I'm doing in November for church funds. I even, whisper it not in Gath, managed to upload an audio-visual file for the final item. Meanwhile I'd exchanged emails with The Boss to settle on a date for this and for the subsequent series of poetry workshops. I do so much better when I have a project to complete.

After lunch we saw a man about a patio - one of my FPs who was recommended for the transformation of part of our garden. We stood in the rain visualising and discussing drains, after which I retreated indoors to recover. (I should mention at this point that I moaned less today about feeling awful, so my vaccine reaction may be subsiding.)

Much later, when we should have been thinking about tea, we went out. The rain had stopped, and as we drove south to where I'd seen a band of lighter sky, we came into the golden light of the last of the sun. One of the joys of the coastal road is the number of seals we see apparently doing back exercises on rocks protruding from the sea. Today I saw one suddenly realising the tide had begun to go out, leaving him stranded on his rock a good three feet above the surface of the water. It's interesting how he managed to get off, sort of manoeuvring himself round on his belly till more of his body hung off the rock than was still on it, then slithering down - and how he did this on the far side of the rock so's not to embarrass himself further. 

My blip was taken from the car park of Toward Primary School, the corner of which is at the extreme left of the photo. I often think how wonderful it must be to go to school there, with the shore just outside the playground. In the distance is Toward Point, where dear friends of mine used to live; I spent so many afternoons pottering along the shore there, playing croquet in their garden, drinking tea and talking - and even, during a period of post-surgery absence from work, spending a couple of nights there at the beginning of the weeks, like mini-holidays. The Rothesay ferry is just visible looking as if it's a toy balanced on the point.

And there's an extra. It's specially for Lady Findhorn, who has taken to wild swimming. In The East. We have them here too. The man appears to be wearing a wet suit, but the woman has on a cozzie.

And gloves.