There is not much better, I believe, than waking up out in the country.
Wandering down the exquisitely substantial staircase this morning, unpacking my Nespresso machine once in the kitchen (well, yes I did bring it), and the bread, butter and peach jam, I realised I had really done it. I had moved to the country ... just for a few days.
The family surged in and around and out and then were gone ... in their car packed full of people and laughter, heading for France. I waved them goodbye, with the Wwoofers - a lovely Australian and American couple - and the veryvery sad dog.
The roof guys arrived ... Eastern Europeans I've been told. And I wandered back up those stairs to create some desk space for me and my boxloads of research and work.
Here is my space. I look down on a small forest from my first floor window. The set-up is not ergonomic in any way, shape or form ... in fact, I suspect it runs more along the lines of one of the top 10 ways to deliberately destroy yourself. I'll work on it over the next few days.
Meanwhile, 29 celsius is expected today. The sky is a deep blue, as I sit here at the window. The garden is full of courgettes, tomatoes and all kinds of other delights waiting for dinner tonight. The hens are rumoured to be laying well. I may have packed some of my favourite Spanish red wine ...
Now, to work.