Okay, bored with all that. It's one of those fresh, grey mornings, windy but foggy, on which a fallen cloud is blowing along the landscape and the sea. The leaves are moving, and a little while ago, the sky emptied a minute's rain onto the skylight. Yesterday's cruise ship gave us shuttle buses around town with their signs in German, the language spoken along Arwenack Street, and this morning, as I look out of the window, one of the grey Navy ships, the smallest, is being towed out of its berth by one of the little red tugs. I remember laughter coming out of Espressini Dulce yesterday afternoon, as I walked by, and this morning, serendipitously, I turned on the radio to be reminded that Jane Austen never bothered herself with the Napoleonic wars. It's a grey Tuesday morning in Falmouth, and a cloud has come to visit.
|
|
|