I rang my father this morning to ask how he got on at the bridge club yesterday afternoon. Halfway through the question I realised that I was a day out in my reckoning - he goes to play bridge on Friday afternoons... and today was - no, it still is, for a few more hours, Friday. I'll ask him again tomorrow...
It's felt like that off and on all day. I think it could be because this was my first week of piano teaching, and I've managed to arrange my schedule so that Friday is completely clear. So after the last lesson on Thursday it feels as though it should be the weekend.
It was a glorious sunny morning today, and I briefly considered suggested we drive to the coast and look at the sea - every so often I get this yearning to stand at the sea and just look - gaze - view - absorb... Then I thought, no, it's the weekend and the seafront is usually crowded with families and scooters and dogwalkers, making socially distanced walking a constant game of chess, steeping off the footpath and struggling through the shingle for a couple of yards, back on the path, back on the shingle. So I gave up on the idea. But of course, it was Friday, and we could have gone. Oh well. Maybe the good weather will hold for next week as well.
Meanwhile I did go for a short stroll up our road and back, not far, but far enough for fresh air, to listen to the birds, enjoy the sunshine, and discover How Cold It Is.
A friend brought me some daffodils in tight bud earlier this week. They began to think about coming out within hours, and now, a few days later, they are brightening the kitchen windowsill.
It fits fairly well - the right width, but a little long - my hands are pretty much shovel-shaped with broad palms and short fingers. I now need to pick up the stitches, currently kept safe on a piece of blue wool, and knit up the thumb. It seemed a good point to stop for tea.