Saturday, 3 March 2012

Saturday Morning

Bertie lies under the kitchen table, warm body, soft fur against my bare toes.  With much cracking and squeaking of plastic on plastic, he happily chews an old battered water bottle.

A tentative beam of sunlight briefly appears through the window and lights up muddy dog footprints, a film of pale dust over the dark red tiles of the kitchen floor. The sun doesn't linger and the view down to the stream and the small bridge returns to a subdued misty grey.

Elbows on the table, pink scruffy dressing gown sleeves pushed back, gardening magazine read, tea cup empty in my hands, the sweet-sour taste of Tod's home-made bread just a memory on my tongue. It's time to face the day.

Or maybe linger a while longer, with another cup of tea?


  1. That familiar sound of dog chewing water bottle - love it. Mine is crying a bit just now as he has to stay in his own 'room' until the mud dries a bit... might go and give him a bottle to take his mind off his situation. (He's obviously forgotten the mad, chasy, hour-long walk through the olive groves from which he's just returned!)

  2. Oh, another cup of tea, I think, Sue. It all sounds too comfortable to move just yet, especially if it's misty.

  3. Hi Annie, fortunately he's found his kong this morning - so life's a bit quieter! I know the "I want to be where you are" whimpering! Tough to resist.
    Hi Perpetua, I'm having "another cup of tea" morning this morning as well - it's a bit too dank to be outside!

  4. Certainly, another cup of tea! Too good a moment to lose.

  5. That is definitely not the face of a goat killer!

  6. Apologies to Fly and Lesley for being so slow to publish your comments. (And thank you for dropping by.)
    I've turned off the word recognition thingy and only just got to grips with what now happens to comments that need my ok before they are shown. I can only get better at this!