When birds sing and the sunshine rings our thoughts with merriment, like a swallow reading its secret map on impossible wings.
I started cooking again after way too much take away. Perfect then, that I found my knife collection -misplaced when moving- and put my whetstone to use.
Rambling, resistance training, riding and soon running. I had not been riding for at least a year and I was never a mad keen two-wheeler. The result was a most tender fundament. My companions assured me that repeated applications of effort would produce most hardy cheeks, so I got right back on the saddle the next day.
By the way, if you like fantasy fiction then The Name Of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss is a perfect book. It is a most polished story and the link goes to an extract. I know a lot of people, including me, are hanging out for the sequel. Highly recommended.