Monochrome?

My first thought this morning (well - more or less: a little author's licence is allowed) was that the utterly monochrome look out of my bedroom window was such a contrast to yesterday's sunrise that I'd have to blip it ... Sad, innit, that one should become so obsessed...

Still, it's still appealing to me 16 hours later, so here it is - shot in colour, but even the hull of the Western Ferries ship looks grey (it's red). Despite appearances, it didn't rain until after dark; I hung out a couple of washings in a gusty southerly wind and all more or less dried by mid-afternoon. Apart from that, I decided the time had come to address the pile of papers, mostly bank statements, that had grown relatively unnoticed on a corner of the sideboard, so it was out with the files and the hole punch as I filed them all appropriately and decided which pages could just go into the compost instead. (How long does one keep statements? I refuse to go paper-free in case I become gaga and can't remember  my passwords ...

Feeling suitably virtuous, I treated myself to a mound of mushrooms fried in olive oil with some tarragon for my lunch, on seeded rye bread, and fell asleep over a bit of the Sunday paper. Later, however, we went out - I couldn't bear another day without a walk - heading south because the sky was brighter, with even a hint of pale sunshine, and walking up the road at Ardyne between the fields. Fat buds thrust themselves at us from the trees beside the road; the copper beech hedges had vivid green tops above their brown autumn coats; startling spikes of green which may well be irises poked their way upwards from a flooded patch of grass. There were birds singing, and a large buzzard swooped low over a field before landing on it and vanishing. My eyes streamed with hay fever - welcome Spring!

A friend sent me a text later inviting me to try her password to see if I could watch A Gentleman in Moscow on my TV without having to sign up for something, but as I couldn't even find it I reckon I'm a failure. Was it tonight it was out? I loved the book ...

Tomorrow, he promised in a text, the gasman cometh. Again.