I woke up - and stayed in bed for a bit. I did some editing and wrote 1300 words - I made foccacia and sourdough bread. I got my stuff together and we went down to the beach. We ate the foccacia and drank some chilled rose. Then we had a swim. Really! It was lovely - biggish waves made it easy to get in eventually - and although it was cold at first, it soon felt great. I would have stayed in longer, but I wasn't really swimming much so I got a bit bored. However I did swim a bit - usually to prevent the current dragging me towards the jetty.
Then we got out, lay in the sun on our lovely beach mats, read and studied a map of France to decide where we would go exactly - and when. I was reading Balzac's The Black Sheep and M was reading Prevost's Manon Lescaut - and we were surrounded by French people playing volley ball and a sort of beach paddle ball. It was a very odd experience, extremely like being on holiday! "Our French-themed beach trip" as M called it. Then we went to Miles's for a cafe creme (no, an Americano actually) and then came home via Waitrose - where we replenished the rose supplies.
We had a delicious supper of lomo iberico which was very delicious with assorted salads and the other half of last night's chocolate cake. Poor Mohammed suffers from Ramadam. No sports because they can't drink water during the day! No dancing in the evenings! Then Mark said "shall we go and see that film" and for once I couldn't think why not, so we went to see The Jersey Boys which will be discussed in another post, and then we came home.
Blots? Not enough pay last month (I must have lost count) and Mohammed asking me about getting his clothes ironed. Pah - "life's too short for ironing!" I said. I don't suppose he comes across a lot of women who prefer the "life of the mind" when they can get it. Then the final blow - I heard that Marion has liver cancer. This will be the second friend I've lost to that particular thing. Oh dear, I really am sad. I guess it means about a year to live - maybe more if treatments are improving, but still not enough. Oh dear.
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| Sunny Ramsgate - just like today - we were at the far end, near the jetty - this pic taken by our domestic blog supremo East Cliff Richard (I can't bear to tell you how long it took me to notice the joke - years rather than days!) |
Then we got out, lay in the sun on our lovely beach mats, read and studied a map of France to decide where we would go exactly - and when. I was reading Balzac's The Black Sheep and M was reading Prevost's Manon Lescaut - and we were surrounded by French people playing volley ball and a sort of beach paddle ball. It was a very odd experience, extremely like being on holiday! "Our French-themed beach trip" as M called it. Then we went to Miles's for a cafe creme (no, an Americano actually) and then came home via Waitrose - where we replenished the rose supplies.
We had a delicious supper of lomo iberico which was very delicious with assorted salads and the other half of last night's chocolate cake. Poor Mohammed suffers from Ramadam. No sports because they can't drink water during the day! No dancing in the evenings! Then Mark said "shall we go and see that film" and for once I couldn't think why not, so we went to see The Jersey Boys which will be discussed in another post, and then we came home.
Blots? Not enough pay last month (I must have lost count) and Mohammed asking me about getting his clothes ironed. Pah - "life's too short for ironing!" I said. I don't suppose he comes across a lot of women who prefer the "life of the mind" when they can get it. Then the final blow - I heard that Marion has liver cancer. This will be the second friend I've lost to that particular thing. Oh dear, I really am sad. I guess it means about a year to live - maybe more if treatments are improving, but still not enough. Oh dear.
Marion kept the prognosis to herself and died yesterday (i.e. 6 days after this news).
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