We came home about midnight last night, so early up and at work today. Feels like my head is somewhere else, and the excitement over 600 new e-mails in my inbox is just not there!
I always hate coming home and adapting to regular routines. The thought of such a busy everyday life is not a good one, and I get hate the feeling that the holiday I looked so much forward to, is over, and there will be months before I can relax and just do nothing again.
But we had a great time… four weeks of very warm weather and sun. I got a great tan 🙂
Guess I’ll go to bed early tonight. And then, as a few more days pass, I’ll probably fit in again… 🙂
Hope I never get to this though! My head vs brick wall is nothing compared…
We’ve been stayng for two nights now, in this beautiful French city where I crashed on my bike 21 july last year. Yesterday my husband went with me to where it happened, I just had to go there again. It was ok… But it is crazy that this short upward hill has cost me loads of pain, two months off from work, medical expences and medicines, and quite a good dash of fear…
Somebody would maybe say that the last one is a good thing.
Brought my bike on holiday with the intension to get out every day, it did’t happen until we got here. Now we have been on the road for three weeks, and I have some excuses… We’ve been so far south, with so high temperatures, and crazy traffic, is probably the only valid one.
I have some catching up to do! 🙂
Sometimes, if something very bad has happened, people just hide it away. I did that too. As I have written about earlier, I started remembering after he died. I don’t know how many years it took for me to understand that all these horrible things actually did happen. Still, if a flashback has sort of new content, I doubt that it is true. I think it just can’t be…
I have been very open about everything with my youngest daughter, and she discussed this with her cousin, my niece. Both of them are grown up. My niece then told my daughter about anmemory she has, of him, my father. Nothing very bad, really, but an incident when she as a child (she was seven when he died) had THAT feeling. That one, when even as a small child she knew, that this is uncomfortable, intrusive, wrong.
I am so sorry she had to have this memory. But it is also a relief for me.
It’s not me.
It happened. My story is true, my feelings are not crazy, there is logic.
I cycled this last year, Col du Tourmalet, up from the east side, down this hill to Luz St Saveur. Speed record of 78 km/hr. wow…
We’ve missed it this year, first time in seven years we haven’t seen any of the stages. Miss it! We don’t even have TV! Well, we have sunsets and sea, and nature and all kinds of other stuff I woudn’t miss… Wear a helmet when cycling, OK?
And this is BEAUTY!
Now I only sing for my cat, she doesn’ even try to listen…(Photo credit: Taekwonweirdo)
I hope so. I always sang a scary one for my girls, they fell asleep with a giggle.
Can’t remember anyone singing for me.
Rest your drowsy cheek,
My girl, quiet on my
Prickling arm. Dream
Your dream of lapping
Waters cresting on this
Human form. The tides
Are breathing, you and
I, in your small clench
And my tight heart.
Tonight we fill the
Grave with stones and
Slumber in the summer’s
Dew. And all I make
Are promises which can
Not come true. I will
Not give you away, my
Girl, I will never make
You cry, nor morning
Find us far apart, nor
This hand gone away
I love this picture, both the colours and the reflection. And the silence. I took this picture in a large city, and there was nobody there, just the reflection. Someone was just here.
As we live on the countryside, and our sound “issues” are listening to the little lamb go from tiny ba ba ba as they call for their mothers, to BAAAH in august, before no one ever hears from them again, I can assure you that sound, is something I think about all the time when I travel.
When was the last time you where somewhere absolutely quiet. NO sound? Thats is a good feeling.
I once had the same feeling, on the ground floor at Les Halles in Paris. Quiet, just me on the escalator going up. For no real reason, I turned my head slightly, and there was a man, 20 centimetres behind me, with his hand halfway down into my bag.
I told him to please leave me alone. And he flew down the escalator in a hurry. S’il vous plait helps in France;) Strange experience.