Monday morning and back at work.
Staring at this screen and unable to appreciate the semi-literate emails facing me. Oh, hang it! Putaside the daily chores and open the memory.
The sky outside my window is a vivid bright blue, more than I can say for my mood at the moment.
So, I will stick with moody blue, although somewhat leavened bymy weekend away at the seaside.
Enormous skies and long desolate beach, good company (at least in part) and a little too much food and wine. A refreshing and rejuvenating sojourn, only from Friday night to Sunday afternoon but at leastthe cobwebs have been comprehensively blown away by the clean, cold, piercing Welshsalt sea air.
Living as I do, in a semi-urban environment allows me to appreciate dark nights and silentcountryside to an extent I could not do when I lived in the country. The downside was being awakened by the farm's cockerel at 4am but he had the decency to return to his slumbers after a few desultory but piercing 'cock-a-doodle-doos'.
And, the juvenile within has been satiated for a while at leastby the journey, along empty highways and lonely Welsh mountain roads, with my friend's Italian convertible in faithful company astern. Can onehave a convoy of two cars? Maybe not but we kept in close convoy, afraid to loose contact in the swirling mists, unable to put the top down due to rain forthe first 80 miles and then densefog - or more accurately low cloud - for mile after mile of moorland roads.
Driving in fog on desolate roads can be enjoyable. One has a feeling of intimacy and cozy isolation, cocooned in the low confines of a sports car's cockpit, lit only by the orange glow from the instrument panel and the backwash of light from the headlamps. The sounds of the tyres swooshing on the wet tarmac and the engine growling in a low gear, frustrated by the slow speed, unable to clear it's lungs in a mad, howling blast towards the horizon.
After what seemed like hours but in reality only half an hour of creeping along in the gloom itwas a relief when we eventuallydropped down out of the cloudsand immediately in to an unpronounceable Welsh town, allgrey dripping stone and windingalleys, seen fleetingly in the dim and misty lights. Coasting through the saturated streets we saw not a single soul. Maybe they were all early to bed in the traditional Welsh non-conformistway. Or maybe they just do not like getting wet!
Leaving the empty ghost town we run out into dank countryside. Down, down, downwe rushed, swooping along the open fast sweeping roads, the rain and fog lifting clear away and the visibility improving mile after mile. Eventually the road falls, almost with relief out of stone walled and narrow lanes on to toe open and fast coast road, zooming along the estuary,to arrive at our haven huddled between silent forest and silver estuary.
Looking out of the window and unfocussing my gaze I can still see the shining vastness of the cold Celtic scenery, hear the gulls shrieking as they chase away a lurking, predatory buzzard, feel the thin wind scouring away theurban tiredness and filling my nostrils with it's salt bite.
That is enough for one Monday. Save some memories, store themlike a miser with his hoard of gold to enjoy for later.
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