Legends from our own lunchtimes

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Hard at work

Arriving a day early is not something to which we have become accustomed, neither for that matter is brilliant sunshine and temperatures touching the high twenties or perhaps thirty with absolutely no humidity.

Instead of bounding out and about and exploring all the town has to offer, we, and the crews of the other two boats in the harbour did the only sensible thing we could.  We cleaned, and varnished and we washed until there was nothing left to be washed or varnished and cleaned, and we wondered if the summer was going to last more than this one day.

For the first time this year we sat in the evening cool with the roof open, reading about all the things we had not yet seen, becoming something of an authority on the Buffon family.

Tomorrow perhaps we shall build on all this book learning, or perhaps we shall just sit under a shady tree, or wander among the wildflowers along the canal, one of us happily photographing the wretched things with the other just as happily murdering them with a flash of her kitchen scissors, bundling them into something she calls a "posy"as she goes.

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