I seem to have landed myself another bedroom with an un-blinded Velux window. Top work. We arrived at half past midnight this morning, which was good enough time, especially since the sat nav completely lost the plot and thought we were driving through fields. At times, granted, it did feel like that, but that’s Irish roads for you.
The cottage is wonderful, although the freezer mentioned on the cottage’s website has turned out to be a freezer-compartment inside the fridge. This leaves us with a week’s supply of rolls, which we had banked on being able to freeze, needing to be eaten before Tuesday. Rolls were a compulsory component of breakfast this morning, and shall likely be taken with every meal for the next two days. The washing machine and drier are incarcerated in the shed, which seems reasonable enough. Along with the microwave, which doesn’t.
The previous owner of the cottage was called George, and his hat hangs on a nail beside the fireplace. I feel sure he must haunt the place, but there was no evidence of him last night. I will keep you posted on any developments on this front. No mice either, although there was a spider in Gilly’s bath.
It’s still windy out, although the sun is breaking through periodically. Wiseman is keen to get to the beach, and mentioned this a number of times, enthusiastically, at breakfast. He was on the verge of becoming obstreperous when we pacified him with more coffee and Gilly’s Dad’s jam.
Suddenly aware that the sun was out and there was a patch of blue sky, we downed books and went to the beach just before lunch. I say just before lunch, but we’re back from the beach now, and there’s no sign of any lunch. Looks like I might have to get it myself. Oh well.
It was unfeasibly windy on the beach. Took some photos, but wasn’t a good day for taking photos.
Broon finally cracked, and made lunch. Spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing. Not as easy as it sounds. My mind, unpractised in the art of deliberate relaxation, was looking around for something to DO while I was trying to focus it on the pages of the book in front of me.
As it turned out, I fell asleep only a few pages in as tiredness from yesterday’s journey hit.
Wiseman wandered through from the kitchen, clutching a pint of ale.
“Haven’t started yet.” He chuckled.
Wiseman was on dinner tonight, and was planning to start his epic preparations at 4pm. However, come 5.30, there was still no sign of him in the kitchen. He had fallen asleep too. Dinner might be a little later tonight. No bad thing, we weren’t finishing lunch until just after 3.
From my vantage point in the sun room (yes, the sun room), I witnessed Wiseman going through the whole gamut of human emotion as he prepared a pot of chilli. Contentment, worry, distress, pain, confusion, they were all there. There was much whimpering, and I think I caught some muttering about health and safety, most notably when fingers were burnt on the casserole dish, which had to be pressed into action when it became apparent that the pans available in the kitchen were not built to accommodate Wiseman-like quantities of chilli. All very amusing. And it was all very tasty, as it turned out.