The rising sun promised another day of sunshine and bitter cold winds. This mattered to me as I rose earlier than usual to devour my 'Ancient Pave' bread and slimy cheese breakfast. How 'ancient' the recipe is for this bread I know not but I suspect the ancients never made it like this. However as I increased the heating level and downed the last of the coffee slumped at my desk I perused the papers for interesting information, the type that keeps me in touch with what really matters in this world.
I found none.
The noise outside forced my nosey nature to rise and open the curtains and watch the workmen laying out the 'Stop and Go' signs for the road works up beside the building works. A small digger was also unloaded proving that no matter how small and no matter how efficient such machinery might be they can still deafen anyone better than a runaway jumbo jet!
While watching the men clad in bright yellow suits I noticed the Daffodils are beginning to break through already. This is the 17th day of January are these meant to appear so soon? As the cold wind howls through the gaps in the windows I ask 'Is it global warming responsible?'
It is always a glad sight to note bright flowers but this does appear early, and so far I have failed to notice any snowdrops, a flower which is supposed to appear at this time.
When I first arrived here all these years ago I thought to myself that this view was reminiscent of all those old postcard vies of 'Old England' that once filled postcards. I soon learned that these expensive houses have heavy traffic all day, and much of the night, hammering past their door and paying stupid money for a five or six hundred year old house, some with remnants of the one time weaving industry that flourished here since the 1400's within, paying such money does not always lead to peace and quiet. At least you mix with the 'right sort of moneyed people.'
I wandered into the sun, not quite like a cowboy did at the end of these old movies and headed up the hill. The thought crosses my mind, when those old cowboys wandered of into the sunset where did they go? Could there be a small town somewhere filled with ageing cowboys waiting for the evening so they can continue their journey? Did they meet a friend or were they run down by a stampeded of passing Buffalo (that's 'Bison Bison' to you)? The thought that 'The West' was populated by thousands of men heading into the sun does not inspire. They would certainly have problems when they reached California...
I wandered into the sun until I decided hunger was important. Having exercised, done the washing, even dusted the house and now wandered abroad I felt enough was enough and it as time to return to my normal vegetative state. This as you can see I have succeeded in doing...