That's how the light gets in ...

Was this day as sepulchrally gloomy all over the country, or were we in Cowal particularly favoured? The forecast on my phone suggested "thick cloud and light winds" but forgot to mention the incessant fine rain that persisted till about 4pm ... And yes, it affected my mood. I didn't even get out of my bed till almost 9am, justified, I felt, by not putting the light out till 2am ...

So I was easily seduced into conversation. A longish phone chat with my sister followed shortly after by a longish FaceTime with my pal left me only enough time to complete a calendar for the church - which I still haven't ordered and must do tomorrow - and read The Scotsman online. I managed to make the spare bed up and organise the other duvets and pillows for the family visit later in the week, and to put away some of the books and papers that looked as if they'd been lying around since their last visit pre-Covid. 

Much, much later, in the lackadaisical way that makes it perfectly possible that I shall be insanely late again, we went out for some air to fend off Himself's first migraine in about 20 years. We found that at Toward the rain had actually stopped, and that there was even a crack in the cloud beyond Bute, through which a bright line of light contrasted with the steely sea. However, the best lighting effect came from the colours of the dreaded Japanese Knotweed that flourishes along the shore road; my blip shows how it frames that little beach which is actually one of the places in which I went swimming only two months ago.

I have to make mention of my dinner, which was so delicious I didn't even stop to take its picture. I had some wonderful calf's liver from Donald Russell, which I cooked Venetian style (slow fried onion and flash fried strips of liver) and served with mashed potatoes and steamed kale. Melting and unctuous and real comfort food - I was cooing over my plate. 

Notice as I write this that the double glazing is covered in condensation on the outside - rather like a time in Corsica when the wind from Africa steamed up the hotel french windows because of the air-con inside. What on earth does that say about my study?