Home in the dark

I was terribly aware of the shortness of today, probably because I was kind of slow getting breakfast after another too-late night (you'd think I was living it up...) and because I allowed myself to be diverted in the early afternoon. But it's only what? Less than three weeks to the solstice - and then we move on into the light and I'll start fretting instead about the swiftness of Time's wingèd chariot ...

Himself, on the other hand, was out briskly this morning for an appointment with the NHS physio (who, it turns out, is leaving) while I was still on my toast and my second - no: third cup of tea. I actually had two FaceTime sessions before I did the washing-up, one with my bestie and the other with someone I wished lived closer than Lewis because she understands just where I'm coming from and makes me laugh immoderately. (She also loves R.S.Thomas and Leonard Cohen - our friendship was clearly in the stars)

After coffee, and after I'd made what smells like a totally delicious dried fruit compôte (with honey, tea and cardamom pods), we changed the habit of years and visited the rather wonderful shop on the fringe of the town that sells everything you might need for gardens, DIY, Christmas presents, some left-field fashion from Italy, household decorations - and Christmas trees. Last year, readers of my blethers may recall, we were so late buying our tree that we had to get a bigger one than we wanted and ended up having to saw off all the branches before we could take it out after Epiphany. So this year we've been early, and we've stayed here rather than driving out to the forestry sale point. I'll not be putting it up, however - not till after Advent 4!

Himself went off to practise in the church after lunch, and I took myself round the West Bay in the dove's wing light of the late afternoon before cutting inland and climbing the steep hill to join him. We had a quick sing through our anthem for Sunday, after which he went home in the car and I finished my walk in the gloaming. Blipping the "Weak Bridge" (limit 10T mgw, whatever that means) over the burn out of the Bishop's Glen, just below the church, with the dark trees and the lonely light at the far side. The church is right at the very back of the town, with the hills and - as here - the Bishop's Glen just off to the left. It's a quiet walk home.

Pondering what the physio said today to Himself. Am I ready to start accepting limitations? Are you?