We are at Center Parcs, in the middle of a forest, merely 30 miles from our own doorstep. We are in another world. We could be anywhere.
Yesterday, I proved to my husband that not only could I still ride a bike after a fast of eight years but I could also manage a two hour swim without a display of temper.
For those of you who don’t know me well, I hate cycling. More importantly, my derriere and nearby body parts hate me for cycling. Swimming? Surely everybody loves swimming? Not so! I spend most of my time in the pool dreading the moment I have to leave and dry off. I hate wet hair. Worse still, I hate the feeling of freshly chlorinated frizzy hair wisping around my face. I push my way through throngs of fellow swimmers to release my frizz onto the world outside and hurry back to my apartment to spray and straighten said hair.
Some would tell me life’s too short to worry about my hair but when you have my face you appreciate that hair can make you look half decent if styled in the right way.
Anyway, today is hubby’s day, although I am not entirely convinced that yesterday wasn’t his too, now that I think about it. We are sitting beside a lake, he with his fishing rods and I with my notebook and phone, writing poems and blog posts, while making a start on an erotic story for my next course module. Hubby wants to offer ideas for that one…strangely he has never been too interested before.
The funniest part of the day so far is my hubby’s new enemy. A young Grebe.
Poor little thing is just hungry but he is going after the same fish as my man. Watching someone’s frustrations is always amusing. I think it helps with creativity. Just saying.
Writing and Rhythm 