His wonders

Sometimes I think it's a shame I usually only get to do sociable things one afternoon/evening a week... on the other hand I'm very grateful for the six and a half days recovery period in between! Despite two taxi rides, two lifts, a meal I only had to heat up and the washing up done for me after another rigorous choir practice, with David (understandably) cracking the tuning fork and metronome his wonders to perform, I was fit for nothing but groaning last night. Feeling no better this morning I was very grateful I'd booked a beautiful start to the day to go one of the last boat trips of the year, so that it seemed as if I had to get out of bed and do it however unsuitably energetic it might feel. Being on the water is one of those things I don't mind at all doing on my own, and though the destination's not actually one of my favourite places to be, sometimes the journey really is the thing.

By the time we'd crossed the big estuary in the sandbank avoiding scenic loop, I was already almost in full on zombie mode so I was grateful for a new harbourside cafe to rest in. And after that for a stagger round some very serendipitous retail outlets including the only Co-op I've found for months that still stocks the rye bread I love (and had two loaves on the shelves) and a shop I thought had closed down but which was open and selling the wool I'd told Dorothy I'd look out for as she wanted some more and didn't know where to find it.

I was grateful the weather stayed gloriously mild and sunny for the ride back as I was at footsteps just a footprint long by then. Nonetheless, I was grateful for the lack of speed as this, plus having to detour to the loo, meant I missed the bus that took a corner all wrong and smashed a window merely frinding out about it from the shaken passengers who joined me at the stop after walking back!

I was grateful that just after I got indoors a big foggy cloud descended on the town and turned everything dark and gloomy so that I wasn't disappointed all I could do for the next few hours was lie on the sofa. I gave thanks for the tiny pink flower that fell out of my hair. I've no idea where it came from...it's the wrong time of year for blossom and I've not been near any florists, gardens or bouquets though I did meet a Tibetan man earlier who was very taken with my curly golden(ish) locks. Well, I guess they would seem pretty exotic to a Tibetan!