Spadework

Up early this morning, I went off to buy some bread and took up tea and bacon and egg sarnies to my lovely wife, before we got up and drove off to her school. A team of parents and other volunteers were assembling to lay paths of rubber chippings, made from shredded car tyres. I found myself shovelling for well over an hour. I left off for a while only to return and find four children happily shovelling it all back into the sacks again. Once the ground was prepped, by pulling out a forest of tiny sycamore shoots, it all went quite smoothly with an ant-like processions of people with wheelbarrows. Once the paths were laid, a few other jobs were done and the school was made safe, Lorraine (who had to lock up naturally) and I crossed the road to The Eight Bells village pub, and had a couple of drinks with some of the parents, which was fairly cheery. We were standing in the garden, and the sun even made an appearance.

Then home for a late lunch round of cheese on toast, and then I simply fell asleep on the gold sofa, feeling like I had done another workout, and laid low for the rest of the day. Watched a film called 45 Years, with Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay, which was sad, but quietly brilliant too.