At half past noon I am lying in a bath. The water is hot, it smells of nice soap, bubbles make map shapes on the flat surface. The window is pushed open wider than usual and the tall geranium flower is peering out at the blue sky. Mr, Dog, me and my wet hair all walk round the fields and it’s too sunny to be wearing a scarf but you don’t really know that till you’re half way round. Being in good spirits we play the target game with the ball and the throw-sticks. I get two good hits on the post (requires moderate skill) and one close touch on the high wire target (requires excellent skill.) The high wire mark is a ball-on-a-rope dog toy that Mr threw one day and it never came down. It has been there for years now, we have watched it fade from fluorescent orange to a blotchy pale peach, like a bloated zombie goldfish.
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