The Thames was very low this morning. By 7.30 the smell of the river was earthy and warm. One goose decided to greet me at the steps of St., Mary’s, two cyclists, one lone jogger, with a bandage on his knee, and a gaggle of worshippers for the Parkgate church, all smiled at me, by 8.00 I was serene.
It’s now 8.39, the rest of the flats inmates are sleep.
I have a few more things to do before making a big Sunday breakfast.
Sausage, egg, bacon, toast, fresh coffee, a glass of cold, cold orange juice, and then off out to feed the ducks with a bag full of uneaten fairy cakes.
I hope they take sugar.
My roomies have gone.
It’s the strangest thing, it’s as if they have never been here. Not a speck of Di’s dust, or a crumpled wrapper from Dan’s Toblerone.
The last five months have flown by. This time last year I was drinking wheat grass, until it was coming out of my howsyourfather – quite literally – and meditating on life without GFL.
This year I am meditating on life with LBC.
And very good it is too.
I am working on Bank Holiday Monday, afer which it will be tea and cakes in the flat with assembled family members.
Right now though, I’ve put on the grill, boiled the kettler and got a cold, wet flannel and a bucket of water ready to wake up Jim….Who needs alarm clocks?
If you are able, have a wonderful holiday weekend.