Happy Sunday dear readers! The weather in the UK has been glorious this weekend, warm enough to sit outside, bright enough for shades. Marvellous. Perfect weather for sunning one’s furry tummy.
I went to London for the day yesterday. I met up with an old work mate and chatted about everything and anything, ate falafel, drank sangria and sat in the sun on the South Bank and drank mint tea. Yes, most people have a beer in the sun but clearly I am 97 years old so peppermint tea it was.
The South Bank is that place where money is made in the most bizarre possible way and yesterday it was bouncing stilts.
The South Bank is also the place where there are always books.
Then later on in the afternoon I had a bloggie meet up with the wonderful Phil. We sat and watched the sunshine on the river and drank more mint tea and talked about writing and Hobart and Purity and Chickenfeed (only Tasmanian readers will have any idea what I’m talking about now….), and how homesick I get for a funny little island off the coast of Australia that has never really been home but has always felt like it is…. and time flew. Suddenly it was time to go home and I felt the conversation had only just begun. More soon, for sure!
Today there is sunshine and books and yoga and gardening. I actually loathe and despise gardening but needs must if I want to look at something nice I guess. And at least it’s warm.
Meanwhile the UK is an island again with no means of access or egress by plane due to volcanic ash from Iceland. Seriously you couldn’t make this up. Whilst the ash hasn’t effected me at all thankfully there is something rather alarming about the whole thing. Much love to all my friends who are stranded around the globe. 
