Before the Fleeing of the Night

So great is our attachment to the ritual of Sunday toast in our café by the canal, that we emptied out of the Dower House at an hour when other sensible God fearing folk were still a-bed and the surrounding buildings still lit up from a night of energy wastefulness;perhaps the escaped zebra is scared of the dark.

We had Loudon's to ourselves and were rewarded with the use of the only remaining jar of last year's home made marmalade from the kitchen of the owner's father - so much better than the little mass marketed pots readily available in most cafés. Considering we probably have the lowest bill of anyone else having Sunday breakfast there, we considered that a huge honour.

We returned home just after 9am with the Sunday papers, although there is much to do before we have the chance to read them.
His Lordship is on a secret mission on my behalf and is locked behind his door, as he has been all week. I am not to disturb him on any pretext. However, I have Alice my new doll to speak to, and she never answers back!