Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Almost perfect!

When one of us woke the sun was shining and there was blue sky.

It had been a week since we'd seen our shadows and the promise of an even more glorious day than the dull and rainy ones of the past week did bring a certain spring into the step, but by the time I'd showered and her eyes were going through the throes of their opening process, normal programming had resumed and the sky was a barely threatening shade of grey.

Nonplussed we dawdled downstream for another few hours, with not much to do but watch the birds in the forest, watch the cows in the fields, wonder why so many cows lie on their sides (no idea but they look as if they are dead), if it would rain on us in the locks (it didn't), what we would have for lunch (ham and cheese on a toasted piece of yesterday's baguette) and whether given that things were actually quite pleasant, we should push on for a bit after lunch (no).

We wondered how it is that the perfect days are never memorable.

We even wondered if we'd ever get the perfect snap of a flying heron (probably not, but we'll keep trying).

And we specially wondered if we'd remember to phone the Grand Matriarch late tonight to wish her a happy 85th birthday!  (Yep!)


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