This is what dinner at the beach looked like. Pizza and fish and chips, and cold wind, and hovering seagulls. Still, I told everyone, it's an adventure. Even though it really wasn't.
What else? I stayed in bed for half of the day and read books and surfed the internet; Eilidh and I bought paper to cover her school books with; Warren did the washing and a bit of Work work; too many kids spent too much time on too many computers. I ate things. I ate more things. Nothing I ate filled me up, filled the hollow I felt at having so much to say and not enough people to say it to. Iona watered the garden. Nathan stacked dishes.
*e.e. cummings
