These long twilights we get at this time of the year in
northern Europe are very pleasant. You can sit and sit
and sit in the garden for ages, watching the moon seem to grow brighter very
slowly. And eventually you get to a point where you sigh (wistfully if you’re a
poet) and say ‘Oh, well...’ And then you retire to the house and make a cup of
tea.
It reminds me of holidays in Devon
when I was a kid. We always went on holiday in June to get the long days. My
stepfather was in a position to take his summer holiday whenever he wanted, you
see, whereas most of my friends’ parents worked in jobs where they had to take
the factory holidays in August, like it or not. I always thought it a cruel
system.
4 comments:
As I keep saying, there's more than a bit of the Hobbit about you, it was the cup of tea and the wistful sigh.
Well, you have to keep the riff raff together and ship them off to Butlins ;)
You know, Melanie Ashton, I do believe there's a bit of the inverted snob about you. Bloody rich gits! My Mel used to tell me off for the same thing.
Possibly, but I'm also working on channelling the countess ;)
I can imagine you'd get into trouble for that.
Actually, I don't mind people being rich. It's when they think it makes them superior that the old inverted snobbery starts to take hold.
And you already are the countess, your grace.
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