Five years on now the tearing depressions will not go away, neither can they be chased, nor can they be ignored. It will not do at all, all this rushing around and not getting anywhere. Retired from work, the first retirement pay is due in at the end of the month, and somehow, things just go on. A few visits to the old place of work, and the realisation that that is now really over and done with.
It is early, walk up the hill, the top of the park is the same as the church spire of Saint Martins Church, all shrouded in mist. The mist does nice things to the light, everything soft and glowing in the early sun.
Wait at the fence for the rheas to come over, at first only one, and then several of them. They all feed happily on the proffered leaves. The birds are getting used to the daily offerings of leaves that are not available to them in their enclosure.
Go back down towards the town along the back path, passing through the old walled garden. The light here is so nice that an extra round about the garden, now a park, seems a good idea. There are some nice vistas of the house in the garden from the bottom of the park, especially nice in the early sun.
On the way down the back path, a cyclist comes speeding up the path. Her machine gives of a steady whine from the supporting electric motor. The motor must get quite warm after what is nearly a kilometres steep climb on a gravel path. This would require a very fit cyclist using a conventional bicycle. With electrical support, the woman manages easily, keeping a cool appearance in her office clothing.
Walk all the way around the old town centre, a distance of a few kilometres, and then return home for yet another cup of coffee.
As soon as the mess at home comes into sight, realise that nothing has changed, it is still just a major challenge to deal with the disorder.
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