Rain and low cloud.
Simon and Madeleine work upstream from the village, dismantling a bridge prior to it being repaired.
After completing the second coat on my door-painting project, I return to the wood, attacking the holly again.
After 2 1/2 hours I take a break, and make soup for lunch using every last ingredient we have. Even so, soup is not a meal, in my book. So I jump on my bike and zip to the shop. It turns out the rest of the team have the same idea and we diminish our credit a chunk more.
During lunch, Simon is reluctant to divulge details of his morning on the bridge. “A photo is a thousand words”, he says. 51 photos have been posted to the WhatsApp group. 😬
After lunch, I complete my working day in the woods and have the gratification of Alex telling me to stop work. (I don’t want to look like a shirker, but I am finding the four hours more than enough!) The rain has stopped and Madeleine is planning to do a “heart-pumping walk” on the track up the hill to Coire Dubh. Uf. I had been planning to have a snooze, but of course can’t resist piggybacking on her knowledge of local walks.
It is a gorgeous path, climbing up a stream with an unpronounceable name, through encouraging numbers of Scots Pine. Although visibility is limited, it is an exhilarating, wild and uplifting view. I keep up. Just.
Work and walk would have been enough physical action for me, for one day. But the girls are up for a swim. And I had promised myself to give it a go. So down to the pier we tramp. I am first in, yelling at full voice. It is bracingly cold, but I am in the water for such a short period that I barely notice it being colder than the Holy Isle coast last summer. Well done the three of us.
In the evening, I realise that there has been a falling out: a victim story and a bruised ego. Triggered by unequal contribution in the kitchen, but it could’ve been anything. I stay out of the conversation, grateful that I am not a protagonist this time. And I search for words that might help.
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