|Sunday 8 March 98||Back Next|
Slept 'till 10. It's the first time in ages I've been able to lie in and not go to work. Skip makes your classic British fry-up sans fried toast. That's scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, broiled tomatoes, coffee. Ian comes down from upstairs to join us. It is an awful lot of food. Later, Skip and I take a walk along a canal somewhere south of here (Deep Cut, near Frimley, if that's any help.) It was green and moist and leafy. Along the canal we passed by a green and white cottage that we're told serves cream teas in the summer. It take me a moment to realize that it's not already summer. In Waterloo, it's snowing. Here, it's cool, but the green convinces me otherwise. Four Canadian geese honked loudly at each other, ignoring us completely. Bloody Canadians. Always mouthing off. The canal borders a military camp. Or encampment. All the buildings are tidy in lines, behind barbed wire, closed to the public.
A light sup, a bit of Riven. "Apocalypse Now" on television.
I'm off to bed, already yawning. Will sleep the sleep of dead 'till morning.