Moving on

I don't know what it is about the atmospheric conditions these last couple of days, but they don't half give rise to a spectacular sky at sunset - I was eating my dinner when Himself looked out an remarked on it, so I dashed out for a photo or two. Oddly, it's raining a bit right now, at 11.30pm - they did suggest the odd random shower. 

My Pilates class this morning was the last in our current studio; apparently it's reverting to being office space and we're moving to a new development in Hafton estate. We all met up there after the morning classes to be shown where to turn up; it felt very odd for me as I've not been there since the woodland I remember from my early years here was bought and developed into a holiday park. I used to walk there with my then bestie, my small firstborn and her small white dog ... So my extra photo shows the last class in the studio and the still-not-quite-ready new venue. I'll not miss the wall mirrors!

After lunch in the garden I fell asleep in a garden chair and snored. I could hear myself, so presumably the neighbours could too. Is it an age thing to take days to recover from a day like Saturday? I felt half dead - and though a gentle walk before dinner, again along the shore, revived me slightly, I nevertheless slept through the ten o'clock news and haven't a clue what's going on.

More chaos, I expect - and an olive oil shortage. That I did hear ...