The two crows moved steadily, intent on their destination. Behind them transparent white clouds streaked the deep blue of the morning sky. Two tall trees, resplendent in their greenery, brightened the day as their leaves twittered in the breeze. A female blackbird hopped several paces and stopped, cocking her ear to listen for movement underground. She hopped three steps more, then again, continuing on her way, coming close to me, happy that I was not going to disturb her routine. In the distance a female form with white top stood in the shadow of the trees. She gazed into the distance as if awaiting someone yet no other movement could be seen. Two cyclists, independent of one another passed by, both wearing those lime green 'Hi-Viz' vests, ideal for crossing a near empty park in bright sunshine. A young women paced by with determined expression, laptop grasped tightly in hand. Someone out to change the world perhaps, a young lawyer about to save the needy, or a businesswomen heading for financial utopia I wondered. My existence appeared to mean little to her. 'White top' had moved. She had come out of the shadows and now at last I saw her understandable reason for hesitation, a small black dog. This, possible a 'Scottie,' ambled slowly, content like me to let the world pass by but keeping at a distance from the woman just in case she urged speed upon him.
So the world awake early today. At last I had two whole days to myself, this was guaranteed yesterday when I covered for someone who was off, but turned up anyway. This was my time, time to relax, sleep, consider the Great War only if I felt like it and iron those shirts the au pair ignored.
Having shopped even earlier I returned home to healthy thick brown bread full of bits and filled it with unhealthy bacon! I read the grubby online papers full of wonder at how they failed to ask why that editor women got off 'scot free!' Did David Cameron's brother defend her at a cost of £20,000 a day? Was the prime minister's intervention that came so close to scrapping the trial, at enormous cost, a deliberate device I ask? Yet the papers appear to play this down. The law works different for important people. I mused for a while, looked at the ironing board, and sat in the bath even though it was not a Sunday. This was a day for enjoyment.
Then I returned to my e-mail. I like e-mail, it is a great way to stay in touch, it avoids needless chatter, gets to the point and brings folks together so well. Not counting Mary who abused me for not liking tennis, something she has been glued to since this nonsense began! Boring I say, get it off the screen. I'd rather talk to a woman about her baby!
Then it happened. I had finished one of the items I was writing, my delightful boss has now read it and sent it back using this 'word' system that allows corrections. I had a long list of corrections, adjustments, recommendations to attend to. This I did once I worked out what to do. Helpfully I returned this and also finished the second piece this time readjusting it to make more sense. However not long afterwards she enquired as to where the thing was, it had not arrived and the reason was simple, me! Not only had I not linked it to her I had not saved the blasted thing after finishing it! The only action was to redo the whole lot! 'Na Poo' to this I thought! So back it went, no doubt the second one will have just as many red lines on it. My teachers at school were not this bad!
Then the other e-mail arrived. Tomorrow I must go in again, as well as Saturday, as a girls sick dad has died. This was expected as he is aged and very sick. A second lass is off tomorrow as her dad is close to following on also. I'm going to ask for a wage soon!
The advantage of being in is taking the laptop and working at the desk. Hopefully it will be quiet and I can get on but if busy I will just write a story, 'Living death in the museum!' Oh yes and now I must iron a shirt....
Time for football and sleep. Who will join the USA in the next round, I know not as I have no idea who is playing yet. Oh sleep, wherefore art thou mush?