It's the witching hour. That time between home time and tea time. When little people can be tetchy. When not so little people are wondering when is the most acceptable time to open a bottle of wine. Is before 5pm okay? When teenagers come home from school absolutely sopping wet, because it's not cool to wear a coat, and then have a strop that the heating isn't on.
We swing from one type of weather to another here in the far west of Cornwall. Yesterday I stood on the North Cliffs in glorious sunshine, eating a banana and smiling. I had just seen a Jay in Tehidy woods, and had gone from there to staring out at the sea, while a fresh wind whipped my hair around my face. Honey lay on the coarse coastal grass, eating a dog treat made from seaweed. It was ideal.
The rain has not stopped today. Pelting rain. Soaking you to your knickers rain (you know the feeling too Christina?!). Even though Olly and I were appropriately dressed for the dash from class room to home, we still had to peel off the layers by the front door. I put on my pyjamas. Olly was content with pants and vest.
We are both currently lounging on the sofa in the conservatory. The faux fire is on, and Olly's army toys are scattered liberally around on the rug. He wants me to tickle his back. I've let him play Minion Rush on my phone. "This is a really special treat, isn't it Mummy?" I nod. My handing over of my mobile device has nothing to do with my not wanting to get down on all fours and throw pretend grenades at the enemy.
The low light of the day is turning towards evening. It will soon be time to think about tea. There are a couple of sweet potatoes on the counter in the kitchen, but I haven't got much further than that. I'll possibly roast them and serve them with a hastily thrown together chilli. Or I might put them away and cook some fish fingers. I'm a bit of a maverick like that.
Olly is tired and has come home from school with a cough. He had a night terror yesterday, and was also woken up by his brother having a meltdown over a computer game. The cat woke both of us up before 6am, so I think it will be early to bed. Sod the school work. I'll read an extra chapter of 'Grandpa's Great Escape' instead. He'll start off in his bed, but he'll be in mine by the time I wend my own way up to Bedfordshire. I don't mind. I always liked my Mum and Dad's bed better than my own when I was little too. The pillows were more plump, and it smelt safe.
I am coveting a pair of denim dungarees, but am worried that I may be too old for them. I used to have a pair from The Gap when I was in my early thirties, but perhaps they won't look as good in my mid forties. Or should I not care? They are ubiquitous like the Breton t shirt, and I wear one of those almost every day. I'm also thinking of getting some layers put into my hair. I'm a bit fed up of a shoulder length bob.
I've just felt the urge to kiss the top of Olly's head.
I'm thinking how much I like to hang out in this room.
I'm listening to the rain hitting the roof, and it is reminding me of hunkering down in Betty. Drinking tea, and heating up hot dogs.
There are home made flapjacks and chocolate cup cakes in spotty tins in the kitchen.
Life is sweet.
Hello and welcome to all of you that have happened upon, and commented on my blog lately. I am genuinely chuffed that you did xxxx