I went to Suffolk, to teach Spirals to a small but keen class on the Shotley Peninsula.
The Orwell Bridge crosses the river at a great height, sheer and spindly in the sunlight. Under the bridge, I drive along the estuary, to the skirl of gulls and the glitter of the light around the boats anchored along the shore. This is England at its most particular and serene; not bucolic, there are boatyards and pylons; in its small and happy way, an island of calm..
I am tired.. My body hurts, and I have much to face soon.. I'm going to bed soon, to sleep. It's Autumn today, the trees were turning brown and red, and we have put the thick duvet on the bed.. Ah, luxury..
And the chimney is swept, so tomorrow I will light the first fire of Autumn, and sit in front of it..