Hotting up

It worked. Closing the bedroom curtains completely certainly stopped the sun from wakening me, though even through lined curtains the light was enough to see plenty and the room felt warmer because the open windows were covered (you can tell I'm fussy). Anyway, I didn't really waken till 7.30am, which counts as a success. Almost as soon as I was awake, however, I texted my Pilates teacher and called off for today - in one way I'd have enjoyed the physical distraction, but in another I knew I'd be tired afterwards, and more tiredness I don't need.

When Himself went off to his class I sorted out a wee case for tomorrow's trip, discarding anything I don't actually need and making sure vital things were in my shoulder bag. That left me with time to do my Italian in the sun outside, briefly attaining the top slot in the Diamond League by the simple step of starting earlier than most. 

In the afternoon we went back down to Toward for a walk up the Ardyne Farm road - you can actually see the line of it in the main photo, just above the black cattle in the far field. We turned at the farm and came back to walk by the sea again, meeting two people we always talk to and standing in the sun far too long - my face and ears and the crown of my head seem to have become somewhat pink. Eventually we came home in time for me to check the calendar, realise a stupid mistake I made back in April, and remedy it with the help of a charming customer service agent at EasyJet. Dinner was consequently late and I've been collapsed ever since.

Today's resolution: If I want another foreign holiday, it'll have to be through a travel agent. I've had enough of the stress of organising it all online. And I'm hoping never to have to fly via London airports again.

Extra photo shows the neighbours leaving the Firth. Yesterday it was two designer yachts belonging, I am given to believe, to a tech magnate; today it was rather a different flotilla schooshing past as we watched.