Saturday June 4, 2005
A pleasant, lazy day. We went across the country roads for weekend provisioning, with no side trips, no diversions, and little in the way of delay. Home seemed to be the best place, for all kinds of reasons.
Mostly it was a simple desire, to be indoors rather than out, doing the ordinary things that make our life the way we like it. To the shame of both of us, there was another reason to be home. Free, unfettered access to the Internet, surfing until our eyes boiled. Haven’t done that since we first had Internet access, back in the dark ages.
“Well,” I said, “it just goes to prove there’s no fun to compare with reading and looking at pictures.”
“True,” Graham said, clicking on another link.
“I think it’s time we turned off and turned in, though.”
“Gosh,” he said, looking at the clock.
“Yeah. Gosh is about right. And have you looked at the sky?”
“Gosh,” he said, looking out to see dawn’s rosy fingers doing what dawn’s rosy fingers are supposed to do early on a fine summer’s morning.
“Yeah. And have you heard the dawn chorus? Going at it like a busload of boozy choirboys, they are.”
“Do choirboys booze?”
“If they don’t then I’d like some of what they’ve got. Or, more particularly, what them pesky birds have got.”
Reluctantly, he switched off his computer and, somewhere around four thirty in what other people call the blessed a.m., we tucked ourselves in for what little remained of the night.
Just as he was dropping off, so I’m told, a great splashing happened just outside the window. He leapt out of bed to see an enormous heron which, startled, leapt into the sky with a heavy crop and much flapping of impossibly huge wings.
“I thought there weren’t as many goldfish as before,” he said.
It seems he got no answer, though, because I’d dropped off the second my eyes closed. And Dolly was sound asleep, too. So he was left with solitary thoughts of herons, goldfish and noisy birds to lull him lethe-wards. Which brings us to another day, of course. Confusing, how days tend to run together when you’re having fun. That’s what you get for surfing the night away, I suppose.