Last night: One glass of oak-aged red wine; which, I anticipate, will introduce me to more of its kind, I do rather relish Friday night wine networking; and a homemade burger keep both my hands busy. Dog is fetching shredded cardboard fragments in hope of me having a hand free to throw them away so she can fetch them again. Boy designs a website for his favourite strategy game, I advise on font size, that’s the bit I understand. Mr is on Facebook, liking stuff. Coal glows in the wood burner. Wine glows in me, warms up thoughts of sleep.
Bare feet tread threadbare carpet upstairs to the welcome bed.
All today: Waking is an easy drift. Of where dreams travelled there is no trace. Bare feet trawl across the kitchen floor, dragging a kettle to the tap and back. Coffee comes, dark matter that sparks life. A broom orders the crumbs and dog hair into one collectable thatch, to be scooped onto the fire embers, to smoulder quietly behind closed burner doors. Words are put demurely on the electronic page, all superfluous description clipped.
Sat outside, a sketchbook page fills to illustrate a story; a flame for a furnace, a biting fly that represents distraction. Dog wants a stone thrown, Cat would like to sit on the sun-warmed paper. Both are shrugged off. Overhead, a buzzard glides.
Mr fixes the apple press and a roast dinner. House guest Baby slides her hands in gravy and wipes it over her hair. After bath splashes and milk, she makes her uncomplicated transition to sleep. We lay back into our evening; fire lit, potential of a brandy glass filled, flaked out Dog.
Comments
I like that line too- but not as much as I like coffee!!