Banging Gate

The wind was stronger this morning as I walked. Things clattered about me. Seagulls flew about haphazardly, tossed by the gusts. Signs creaked and a gate leading to the backyard of house on Llanbadarn Road flapped open and shut as I walked past. The latch hadn’t been put down and the wind caught at it, rattling it then thumping it closed, only for it to open again. A jangling sound. A bit like my temper yesterday. Was it the tea?

Things went wrong yesterday, or perhaps it was my approach to them. Both of the main irksome wrongs have been put right, well as much as they can be. The kettle has been replaced for free though we were given a rather bland colour. Can I have a red one this time? I’d asked him before he left for town. There was only one left, apparently. So we are stuck with taupe. We’re calling her Jane, plain Jane. Like it or lump it, eh? And the tap top has been stuck back on, though it wobbles, rather like a tooth soon to be dislodged. Ah, how I hate bodging things.

A good day otherwise. I loved doing the research though I’ve lots to do before I get to the meat of it. Oranges this morning for breakfast. The rice fast has been broken after 10 days. I was good to have something light. And the tea was a joy, even if it made me cross. I shall try harder to be nice today. Onward. Admin to be done, then quilt and phone call, then letters to journals, then baking. Enough, I think.