Sunday
Today was a good day. The weather was beautiful.
Jessica and I did a little bit of work in the garden—nothing too sweaty. Then Jessica cut my hair. It looks good. And it feels good to have my neck freed up.
We went for a Sunday roast at the nearest pub, which does a most excellent carvery. It was tasty and plentiful so after strolling home, I wanted to do nothing more than sit around.
I sat outside in the back garden under the dappled shade offered by the overhanging trees. I had a good book. I had my mandolin to hand. I’d reach for it occassionally to play a tune or two.
Coco the cat—not our cat—sat nearby, stretching her paws out lazily in the warm muggy air.
It was a good day.