Clouds over Arden Street

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

Not only clouds but Blue Sky, and later on the sun even came out.

I woke a lot during the night and eventually gave up trying to sleep around 5.30, e-mailing just Allan on the night shift. I don't feel quite as exhausted though. Perhaps it's the fact that the invisible emotional weight as I waited has now gone, or maybe yesterday's B12 shot - who knows. Whatever, it is I now have no excuse for the over-eating, the thing I dreaded most has passed and I'm still here, so no need for any more anxiety eating.

I had a good meeting with the mortgage lady and then after a flat white and cherry scone at Black Medicine it was off to the Manor. On the way home I called in to see K but she's in Canada, at her brother's funeral.

The afternoon has been spent swithering about whether to go and do some gardening, in the sun, or stay in a tidy the kitchen, clean out Molly's tray and do the ironing. I opted for the latter. A clean out of the washing machine's rubber seal yielded a soggy folded fiver in amongst the cat hair. An omen? I hope the bank exchange it, it's a bit worse for wear.

I have yesterday's Tour highlights and today's live coverage recorded. On Friday it will be going along a road I know VERY well, Blagnac to Grenade, although not along La Voie Lactee (a dual carriageway beside the A380 hangar named the Milky Way). I must remember to watch.

Quatorze juillet - bonne fete!