It’s a test of my acceptance skills. It has covered (or dripped over) two levels of windows. It looks revolting. It’s because they’re nesting on the roof, he said. Yes. And they shit in the air and the wind carries it and splat. He called the window cleaner (it is too high for me to get at) but he’s off for the weekend (where I wonder?) and can’t do it till Monday. So be it.
I heard what I thought was cicada as I sat outside and read. Do we get them here or are they a purely Spanish phenomenon?
It began to drizzle as I walked. I don’t know why it irritates me. Is it because I expected it to be dry? I have on my waterproofs so it’s no big deal but it doesn’t half get hot with my hood up. C’est la vie. And then I saw a small fishing boat setting out. How I love that. It’s such a hopeful thing. That tiny craft in that huge expanse of uncertainty. I watched his lights for a few minutes at the end of the Perygyl.
There are night-scented jasmine and wild honeysuckle to delight my nose as I return home. You see.
