A jewel of a November day

We wake to a beautiful autumn morning, around half past seven and after letting Norman into the garden, I set about making breakfast. We eat while listening to the news on radio four, there is more about Obama, but the focus is moving to China and the leadership change there. After breakfast I read the guardian while drinking coffee, but most of the articles, except the arts, have already been covered on the radio. We leave to collect Dolly and Teddy at nine thirty and arrive on the Westwood slightly before ten. The sun is shining out of a clear blue sky, but there is a strong northwesterly wind. In this light the colour in the landscape is restored, but days like these are rare jewels at this time of year. In the woods and out of the reach of the wind, Norman is rejuvenated, and runs around like a puppy. We spend two hours in the fresh air and end our walk after making our way through Burton Bushes, whose trees are putting on a spectacular show. Felicity phones to say she doesn't feel up to "The Tempest", tonight and is much relieved when I tell her it is being beamed on Saturday, and that she has two more days to feel better. It is noon when we drop the terriers in Cherry and make our way home. Norman has some biscuits and I eat the remaining burger in a panini with a side salad and a diet coke. Later I meditate and then drive to the leisure centre for a swim. The pool is virtually empty and I have a lane to myself for the hour, until the children's swimming lessons that start at four. Today I swim 4 x 400m in each of the four strokes, but breaking the butterfly into 8 x 50m repeats. Then finish off with 4 x 100m individual medleys, before warming down with an easy 200m backstroke and freestyle. The changing rooms are full of excited children, chattering noisily before their classes, and mums draped like Christmas trees with items of their discarded clothing. After changing, I drink tea and eat a couple of oaties in the cafe, before driving home. I was due to help Leslie with his online grocery ordering, but he tells me on the phone that he is tired, as the district nurse, his hairdresser and his son in law have all visited today. When I get home Norman is waiting, his tail wagging, ready for dinner. I open a tin for him and then walk him round the village in the dark, letting him off the lead to play "praise and pat", on the last leg of our journey home. I have "erbsen eintopf", pea soup, in the slow cooker, which I may eat later, but for now I settle down to finish my book. Nothing much has happened today, although fine weather, fresh air and exercise, ticks most of my boxes. A little more company might have been nice.