I did get very close today to the ‘having nothing to photograph’ assessment — but I did get the marking done. Justification for the latest trip to the pub, anyway: I am now officially On Sabbatical. As I ordered the first pint of this period I was reminded that I do like pub regular Jim’s habit of claiming his daily bottle of red wine. But even that, I couldn’t get properly in focus.
Hmmm, a Saturday with no football (yes, OK, I’m aware that there was something going on in London along those lines, but you know what I mean). And the sun was shining. And there was work to do in the garden. All these things made a relaxing afternoon picnic, with wine, just the right thing to do. (Those are my feet, yes. Clare is unseen to the left — I didn’t drink the whole bottle myself, you know.)
Ignoring the currently redundant mug and bowl, we have: sugar; syrup; lemons; and wine. The pancakes are on the way — after that, nothing else is required for a while.
This seems a very long time ago now. Another reason that I could not sort out my dead Mac for as long as I did was that we had to run Joe back up to his second year of uni in Dundee (of which more shortly). Two days before, we had the latest in what seems a series of farewell meals. Doubtless there’ll be more, unless of course this time he never comes back at all.
How decadent, a glass of wine on a train on Sunday lunchtime. (And a bottle of water that may or may not originate from a spa town in North Yorkshire.) I like the refraction in the glass that is in turn reflected in my phone on the table.
This is definitely a coven of like-minded females, and they’re plotting something. But I’m confident that they’re of the white persuasion, somehow. It’s the hair that gives away their shared allegiance.
I think this sums up this particular acquaintance. If the guy that you think is Jim doesn’t have a glass of red wine in front of him, then it’s not him.
If anyone in the UK has any better ideas for what to do with this Friday evening I’d love to hear them. Have a good weekend y’all.
I have been thinking about this, and have decided to declare this the one and only positive outcome of lockdown –‘this’ being the emergence of a UK pavement café culture. We don’t necessarily have the weather for it, but hey, pubs and restaurants can invest in some umbrellas, as they do elsewhere. On sunny afternoons like this one, it doesn’t matter, and we can give it a shot.
The liquid refreshment has arrived, at least. A slightly late lunch…. but it’s nice to be on a weekend away. These two factors explain C’s look of contentment.
Being 42 