Weekender

My skin brings weary nostalgia of summer. Dehydrated of sun and sea - of bronzed shoulders long lunches and aqua mineralle. When I first returned home, my freckled nose bore the biggest brunt of anti-Mediterranean weather - now it's moved South to my legs, mocking me since morning. We still look for retreats - perhaps we will never stop looking - there is an almost machistic pleasure in tempting things you can't have. But in my heart of hearts I know we will have it all - however terrible that sounds. We are determined, level headed and very good at prioritising; and that's really all it is in the end. You can have anything as long as your priorities are right. 

All day I've had an unrelenting urge for eggs Benedict and prosecco. Spritzer and poached eggs were the closest I could find. Lunch was bathed under the silver leaves of and olive tree and through white wine clouds I wore the sun on my back like a child - clutching at it in case it falls. Late last night we caught Before I Go To Sleep - so much better than we both expected. So many errands and morning rushing - the bank, Porsche garage, MOT, washing, Boots. I stooped through shops watching Christmas stock glisten - it took all our atrength to pull ourselves away. I am feverishly excited, almost overwhelmed with plans. For my birthday I ask myself what I would most like to do - I am torn between going home (Nuthurst lunch and evening drinks) or London (museums, drinks and a show?) or even Amsterdam (Anne frank's and autumn cafe culture). 

Speaking of plans, there are few free weekends between now and the new year. It is both a terrifying and exhilarating thought at once. My birthday will come and go with no brakes, Halloween, three birthday's, bonfire night, and then before I know it we will be making visa plans for the following spring. Life moves too fast at time, but I enjoying the journey each stolen moment I can.