Working in the kitchen yesterday - making a chicken/ginger/mushroom stir fry for the Captain and the Roger's supper, I kept turning round to put things on the table, set the table, etc. But: No table.
It had spirited itself out onto the balcony, where a seriously-aproned Captain B was sanding and re-varnishing it. I am now under stern instructions about being more careful when I scrub it down.
It is back pristine, and I have just set it for breakfast. The English Channel is back too. It had disappeared into a sea-fret earlier this morning. Looks like its going to be another hot hot hot day. But there is definitely an Autumnal feeling for all this - especially this morning, with the mist.
The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Which I love. But its the usual thing - the way the years fly past me faster and faster and faster.
I have managed to do all but 3 of my magazine route calls - got a very nice welcome from both Mike and Tony when I turned up on their doorsteps yesterday. I think that I can do one today as Jean and I drive back from visiting Maggie, but the other 2, a little beyond my driving range at the moment, will have to wait till next month. I think I will deliver both magazines together.
I have just realised that the heading for this blog does not actually work. To be the Marie Celeste of tables, the breakfast dishes I have just set out on it should all mysteriously disappear, but the table itself should remain.
I think I had better go to the kitchen and check