Spring ...

Briefly, for I know the end of the week will not be like today, but briefly, today felt like Spring, from the inconvenient sun in my eyes just after 6am to the early evening warmth which saw me out for a walk in the jacket I've not worn for months on end and feeling too hot by the time I'd climbed up from the West Bay, where today's photo was taken of the low tide beach and the layers of cloud lined up across the Firth. 

I was a tad slow getting out of bed - having been wakened far too early I then fell asleep again in the middle of my early morning tea, but when I did succeed in wakening I took all the contents of the linen basket downstairs and in three washes managed to get it all done and out on the line before elevenses. Then I had some urgent writing to get done, so all I had time for before lunch was to open up the bottom of the compost bin to see what we had within - to find to my horror the whole process of compost-making in full pelt with a multitude of woodlice great and small seething within, falling to the ground with a little dry sound, crawling back again ...

I decided I couldn't quite face it today. Besides, I'd found an unopened bag of compost in the shed, and all I wanted was to top up pots, fill a few more, and plant as many seeds as I could accommodate in them. I spread a garden tarpaulin thing over the glass-topped table and felt like the presenter of a gardening programme - usually before now I've just crouched on the ground to do this job. The sun was shining warmly and I worked in my shirt sleeves and felt ... hot. 

By five o'clock we were both tired and stiff, and my thumb had been savaged by a rose bush. Himself had been practising for our forthcoming concert, measuring keyboard heights against a stool - that sort of thing. We needed a walk - of course we did. We ended up  having a real Old People's walk round the West Bay prom and back again via the Castle Gardens. It was rather lovely; the few people we met, all unknown to us, greeted us with cheery words about the weather. One woman was sitting on a bench on the prom with her eyes closed, like a cat. I felt hot. HOT.

Now once again I merely feel tired. My gashed thumb looks quite alarming - the scratch is about two inches long and is bloody still. I hope it (the thumb) is still there in the morning. Night night...