Up with the larks

Up at seven, feeling like starting the week with a good dose of early morning writing. By springing out of bed, I woke Lorraine up. This was fortunate, as we immediately got a call from Maureen saying Pat was on the floor having slipped out of bed. We drove around, and popped him back in, and afterwards enjoyed a spell by the seaside, looking at the lovely colours of the early morning.

Home again, and I got on with writing more of Kansas. The first draft is almost done, but the end still needs work. It comes in at about six thousand words. I also called Mum arranging to see her on Wednesday. 

A walk this afternoon, unremarkable, but I was listening to a the rest is politics interview with former labour leader Neil Kinnock, which was quite touching. I always liked him, and he seemed a man of principle and sometimes raw courage. 

Lorraine and I in the warmth tonight, eating chicken stew I'd made, which was rather good. We are watching Dexter now, and enjoying it. Early to bed. I am reading Rum Punch, by James Elroy. Not my usual read, but an undemanding bedtime read.

Below bleary faced at eight o'clock. The beach still has lots of sand.