Day Off

7th August 2012 Tuesday 

A day off. We drive through spattering rain to the beautiful cathedral city of Wells.

The last time we were in Wells was the day after my nephew’s wedding. We bought shoes that day. I want to buy another pair today to wear at his brother's wedding on Saturday. My husband wants to absorb the cathedral. Perfect compromise - we split up and rendevous later for a walk round the moat of the Bishop’s Palace, passing giant white plaster models of swans, huge beech trees and ducks skidding in from the sky, landing between the water lillies.

They have nearly run out of food at The Good Earth restaurant but manage to scrape out a small bowl of salad for me and a slice of Brie quiche for my husband. We fill up on sweet strawberries and fat glossy black cherries from the market stall by the car park and drive home in more spitting rain.

Home to the pussy cat who is so quiet these days he doesn’t come and greet us like he used to, running down the stairs. So I go and find him - this time in the garden crouched under the patio table, his bones all knobbly under his fur.

The first peas and pale lime green beans for supper. The slugs have eaten all the basil so it’s parsley and mint chopped up to dress the new potatoes. We watch a late film  -  The Day After Tomorrow about an ice storm destroying New York - a climate change drama. Unusually my husband stays to the end. He recognises the Statue of Liberty in New York because we have been there. But he won’t remember the name of the place we visted today.

No days off for words flying away forever - like ducks into the clouds.