Another do-nothing day leaves one at a loss for words; there's just nothing much to say. I preface every complaint about the debilitating smoke by saying I'm grateful there are no nearby fires, but even Michael has trouble breathing when the air is this thick. Our walks are much shorter these days. We sit at the picnic table under the oaks and hope for a puff of breeze. It is cooler and we're grateful for that.
I've mentioned Lucy Worley, who, it turns out, is an historian and curator of the historic royal palaces, including the Tower of London. She is also darned funny, and has a great time dressing up in period costumes and acting the part. I watched another of her specials yesterday. Due to the virus, all of the palaces are empty of tourists and we got an up-close-and-personal look at areas that would have been crowded under other circumstances. For an avowed Anglophile, it was fascinating.
Years ago, when people still wrote letters, I had a pen pal in England. He was the owner of a pub then, but fell on hard times and rather than go on the dole, he returned to factory work. We corresponded for several years and I learned of his wife and two children. I had the opportunity to go to England and had hoped to meet Brian and his family, but his work schedule didn't correspond and we lost the chance. Over time, we also lost touch. It had been fun.
The sun is up and I still can't see the hills across the way, so I guess we're in for a repeat of the many days before.
Stay safe. Be well.
No comments:
Post a Comment