Jetlag

Even after a few hours sleep there seemed to be more grandchildren around than we remembered.

We counted them again, and there are still just three, but they have become faster and more wriggly and cleverer in our absence.  Perhaps they have become noisier as well.  We can't work out if all the hugs and cuddles are for their benefit or ours, and we don't really care.

They took us off to the nature reserve to try to walk off the northern hemisphere, but as they scampered along the boardwalk, the colours seemed even more disorienting.

We quietly bade them farewell and slowly made our way north to make an attempt at recovery from jetlag in the silence of our own company.

No doubt firmly in its clutches, one of us made a rash and uncharacteristic decision that he would attempt to cook a nice cup of tea  for the other as she remained blissfully recumbent at some part of the early morn.

With unfocussed eyes he managed to fill the kettle and place it on the gas cooker.  His practiced hands reached to the left for the ignition switch, and groped a couple of times until the nuero-transmitters of his brain manage to send a message  back that on the boat, he would have been correct, but at home the switch is on the right.   With a gentle click-woof the burner ignited, and with kettle in place he turned his back to find the teabags.

The kitchen became enveloped in a dull orange flashing glow.  He turned to find the electric kettle which in fairness had until that point been quite similar in shape to the one the he had used daily on the boat, somewhat ablaze.

After carefully writing "Kettle" on the shopping list, he decided it was time for his journal to take a short break, lest even more foolishness be inadvertently recorded.