The weekend passed and my family visited, towing along billie for the journey. They stayed in a lakeside lodge, with a nature reserve on their doorstep - we visited for peppermint tea, biscuits, iPad photos and sunshine newspaper browsing. Days always feel long and warm when they're around - like summer nights as a child where hazy nostalgia stretches the evenings into infinities. I never thought of us as a family who would live by te sea, as we're countryside at heart, but the rich sea that spilled in front of us that afternoon changed both of our hearts. My daydream torn between land and sea- yearning to swim out beyond waters that my eyes can't focus on. Growing older is a funny thing.
Did we stop to breathe this past week? Or have we travelled back from Italian coasts, earthy coffee and salty skin to our little home and haven't yet exhaled? We will probably shatter on Saturday morning into tiny, writhing, giggly messes. I was almost certainly breathless yesterday morning, when morning skies broke daylight like I've never seen before. Like something from a reneisance painting, overflowing from clouds in heavenly bursts. Weak.
This week I am wallpaper madness, improvised meals, BBC television, early nights, weekend dreaming, baby names (new bambino soon in the office), blog-consuming, holiday lusting, breakfasts-on-the-go, soaring to do lists and Christmas ideas.
And Pete asked if I wanted to take his car to work whilst he gets mine MOT'd - I said no and if that's not growing up then I don't know what is.
