The weekend has passed; this morning we changed the clocks for summer time. I wouldn't say it affects me negatively, but overall it feels like an unnecessary hassle.
Yesterday, around noon I watched A Haunting in Venice with Kenneth Branagh. We're all getting older – that's what I felt after seeing it. Later in the evening, we were at the Conrads and watched a surprisingly good Emilia Pérez. I hadn't bothered to follow the whole buzz around it during the Oscar season, because, honestly, who cares these days? Well, maybe someone does; I, for sure, grew out of it ages ago – all the campaigns are just too obvious, too cliché.
Today, finished reading Walked the Blue Fields by Keegan. Two stories stood out, The Parting Girl and The Forester's Daughter, very well written, surprising, beautiful and painful at the same time; but all in all, I'd say the first collection of stories was a bit better, more immersive. Of course, it could be the mood of the last few days that’s colouring my view.
To shake off some Sunday lethargy, I decided to go for a walk, and Fred joined in. I kept thinking about the plan I had to prepare for tomorrow morning, which bothered me, as it always does. So difficult to stay in the moment. And the moment was exceptional: sunny and warm, with the songs of spring all around. Our neighbour was outside with her dog, Lucy, so we said hello, chatted for a minute, and then went on our way. A lot of people at the beach. One Syrian woman had a cat on a lead. The cat’s name was Zizi. What a lovely little creature! She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her time there – such a brave little animal. We ambled along to the shaggy dunes, where in the summer one can spot a colony of sand martins. The nests were still empty, waiting. Their rightful owners are surely getting closer every day, making their way from sub-Saharan wintering grounds.
Came back home only before five. I cooked, we ate, then we put our feet up and chilled.
Below, sand martins' colony, quiet at this time of year, and the dunes.
