Early morning at "Riverbend" after a restful night in bed after a restless day on the road. After we had got home last night and sat on the sofa in the lounge catching our collective breath, we looked at each other and it was Padma who said it first, with total and utter conviction in her voice: "It's good to be home again, isn't it?" Isn't it?
And it's good to be cooking my porridge again - five tablespoons of oats, a handful of raisins, milk, and a dollop of honey. I've already given the resident possum her breakfast in bed, and fed the resident wild ducks by the pond, and I'm about to sort through several scores of emails that accumulated during my one day away from the computer, with offers of penis enlargers and business proposals to handle the millions of dollars left by some deceased tinpot dictator in some African banana republic.
Mind you, I might just first do what I always do when I feel totally at home, which is to watch the sunrise in a recumbent position from the old sofa on the verandah. In fact, I'm doing it right now. Sofa, so good!
P.S. As for my oncologist's prognosis in Sydney, he reckons if I cut back just a little bit on my booze and sex, I should live to see a hundred! 😜
