Befogged
Lorraine and I had plans to go out to a wood and look at bluebells. But naturally, as it was a bank holiday, there was a thick fog and drizzle. I like the fog as it makes everything a suggestion, so that the valley and its housing estates was gone, and the far hill with the windmill was invisible all day.
A day of laying low. Difficult to nail down the French holidays. Then Lorraine doing lots of preparation work for tomorrow, Beth learning lines, and I cooked a roast in the evening and spoke to mum on FaceTime. Later I watched Chelsea draw with Spurs 2-2. A spikily, bad tempered match featuring eye gouging, mass scuffles, and filthy tackles. The result, however, of Spurs not winning meant that Leicester became the least likely winners of the Premiere League since it began. Rather pleased for them, which judging by Facebook and other media seemed to inspire people with the notion that anything is possible.
Below, a view from the kitchen window.
A day of laying low. Difficult to nail down the French holidays. Then Lorraine doing lots of preparation work for tomorrow, Beth learning lines, and I cooked a roast in the evening and spoke to mum on FaceTime. Later I watched Chelsea draw with Spurs 2-2. A spikily, bad tempered match featuring eye gouging, mass scuffles, and filthy tackles. The result, however, of Spurs not winning meant that Leicester became the least likely winners of the Premiere League since it began. Rather pleased for them, which judging by Facebook and other media seemed to inspire people with the notion that anything is possible.
Below, a view from the kitchen window.
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