Sunday, 4 March 2012

The Wholehearted Breakfast


I should be soooo tired but when I look out of the car window everything is so sharply in focus, I notice more detail than I can fully process. When I woke up too early this morning, Mr was snoring and most of our cash had worked its way behind the bar of the Bristol Hilton. Left him sleeping, put on my favourite red swimsuit, wandered to the pool. There was only me and the water and the steam room. Dried, dressed, smelling of complimentary body lotion, back the room where Mr is putting on trousers and talking of breakfast. Breakfast is a fantastic idea, we pursue it wholeheartedly. Later at home I am walking around the fields with Dog, the wind is cold, the tree joints grumble. The wind rattles through everything like it is trying to find its car keys. What does a wind need car keys for, I ask myself, the kind of question that tells me I am indeed rather sleep short. Getting in a car and going to a Dinner Dance, I decide, the wind is jealous of my weekend adventure; answering my own question, the kind of answer that tells me I am very sleep short but it has been hilariously worthwhile. 


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