The alarm didn’t go off. It could have been a disaster, but fortunately I woke up ten minutes later and checked the time. Out of bed in a nano second; cat food in the bowl; kettle on; coffee in the filter cone; egg in the water and bread in the toaster.
It was all a bit rushed, but I got out of the door more or less on time and even managed a few minutes frantic play with MasterB who evidently had plans this morning that did not involve me going anywhere.
I delayed my rush to the bus stop to take bad pictures of the new planter made from an abandoned trunk. It is wonderful to me. I am gradually filling it with herbs, and just looking at it fills my heart.
The traffic was slow. London, and particularly my patch, is plagued with with road works and traffic jams due to various good causes that include the Cycle Super Highway that should make cycling around the Elephant and Castle for those brave enough to try it less like a two-wheeled version of Russian roulette.
At Waterloo Station, I noticed a line of people, some wearing cycle helmets. I stopped for a moment to look and nearly got knocked down by some rushing commuters. The people who had caught my attention were waiting for the Barclay bikes to be unloaded from the van so they could hire them and go to work.
The job I was doing today is not one I am completely confident about despite hours of prep and swotting. However, under a veneer of panic, I felt good. On the journey out of town I gazed from the train window, mentally going through my notes and I found myself smiling. Eighteen months ago I left a job I loved after years of being ground down by a boss who disliked me. The lack of appreciation was very harmful. Fortunately it was a part time job, and my other job provided some balance. It’s the other job that I now do full-time. I am appreciated, and the contrast is like the difference between being starved and being fed.
And today I was fed well. The appreciations were fulsome. It was quite a long day, but at the end of it, I came home in a rosy and tired glow. I had also had a few precious hours in the countryside, seeing poppies by the verges, fat lambs in the fields, a foal, calves still with their mothers.
It’s more than a week until I can break away to das Boot, but I am almost salivating at the thought. The poppies in East Anglia are a byword. I am looking forward to a visual feast.
MasterB was pleased to see me. Celia had called in to check on him today, and we exchanged texts while I was travelling home. MasterB, she told me, had looked at her pityingly when she tried to play with him. Allowed outside, he hid in the binshed. Maybe he was saving his energies for my homecoming. We had an hour of energetic play with the feathered toys before he would go out. He was cuddly and affectionate. I watered the garden, but when it was time for me to come in I couldn’t see him. He’s still outside now, but his moments of freedom are numbered, as I want to go to bed.