So today we're having a slobby day in jimjams. Sadly the garden is too much of a jungle (waist high grass, or should that be dandelions and weeds?) to sit out and enjoy the forthcoming airshow. It should be a cracker this year, for the first time in donkeys' the skies are clear and bright - it truly is a beautiful day.
Situated where we are, about a mile and a half uphill from the estuary, we can see most of the displaying planes when the weather's like this, without leaving the house. We even catch most of the tricks of the Red Arrows - stunning. But Big Chief White Hair wants to go see the display on the cliffs tomorrow, and do the thing properly for a change.
That reminds me of a twinge I had on Friday. Or was it Wednesday? Not nostalgia, exactly, but the feeling that I'm missing something. It can't be nostalgia, as it's not something I recall doing particularly often; but here we live in a hugely populated part of the country that is almost a suburb of London, 45 miles to the east; but we have parks (5 within about 2 - 3 miles of home), gardens, sea, woods - acres and acres and miles of woods - country parks, to say nothing of sports facilities (council and private), cinemas, masses of kids' entertainments. We are so lucky to live here - all we have to do is live down the white-stilettos-and-shell-suits image held by so many of this actually beautifully green and surprisingly low-crime part of the country. And of course, blessed with so much on my doorstep, how often do I go to those same parks / woods / beaches / entertainments?
On whichever day it was, just as I left the local shopping emporium to trundle home on Freya, I caught a sight of the sea, peering at me through the shops in the High Street, and calling to me at a very instinctive level. Come, it said; your battery's got enough charge for a little detour to see me. But I turned my back, too much to do, too little time. Never mind, I heard it say, you'll be back soon...
And so tomorrow, with engines roaring above, crowds milling (do they mill? Why do they mill and not grind?) I'll go see the sea, and say sorry.