I was at my desk today wondering if it had all been a dream. Had the past two weeks been real?
I sat there thinking it was as though I'd never been away. But I had, and I achieved more than expected. It was a wonderful experience.
The weather was very good and, even though most of the work was indoors, it was nice to eat out in the afternoon and evening sun and feel the warmth on the skin.
I guess last week was living the dream but this and subsequent weeks will be contributing towards a return to it. All of it is reality I suppose.
In our absence the garden here in Newark exploded with colour. Everything was just waiting for us to get out of the way so it could blossom.
It's nice to be back for sure but it'll be nice to get back too. I've already made plans and started with my lists and budget projections.
I think I'll post some photographs tomorrow of the jungle we found that was our garden and our attempts to tame, conquer and subdue and bring it under English rule.
Actually, there is still a great deal of gay abandon and original charm in evidence. The French resistance is alive and kicking and ever will it be so. We prefer to leave England where it belongs when we come here.
I had another meeting in Newark tonight for artists which has left me extremely tired.
I just smiled at the thought of my blowing a raspberry to Portsmouth wearing a bright home strip a few weeks ago. Sunderland weren't relegated although it was a very tense time as the radio signal weakened driving through Josselin.