The flames of yesterday's burn-off in the back of the property were still flickering away after we had finished watching VERA. So, to keep an eye on the flames, I slept in the guest cottage which not only has a full view of the river but also the back of the property and the flickering flames.
Sleeping in the cottage wasn't just a touch of Bali but also a double-serving of nostalgia because halfway through the night the rains came. And with it came the gentle pitter-patter of the raindrops on its corrugated-iron roof. And memories of not just gentle pitter-patter but the heavy drumming of tropical downpours on corrugated-iron roofs in many South Pacific islands. It was a night of happy memories.
Maybe it was the last four days of physical work, or the pitter-patter of the rain, or the many happy memories it brought back, but I fell into a deep and wholly refreshing sleep. It's now six o'clock in the morning and I'm back in the house and going through my morning tea-ceremony.
Padma keeps saying that my tea tastes better. I don't know why; after all, it's the same tea-bag - literally, because I hang it out to dry each morning for reuse next day. It's my latest economy drive to rein in costs.
Now it's quarter past six. The river has come alive with the first angler of the day, the porridge is bubbling away, and it's time for breakfast, after which I get ready for my Auggie-Wren moment of the day.
