Up early on Saturday for more swimming, more running. The sun was bright, incredibly hot for an April morning in Northern England. Still, running through fields was a dream, the dew dampening my feet and ankles, freshening my struggling limbs. Two weeks until race day and I'm excited and impatient.
Purple flowers on the windowsill, and fresh basil looking fit to burst from the sunshine. Tasting the summer with the first homemade houmous of the year, enjoying a slow Saturday lunch together.
The radio sounded through the house while we cleaned and tidied, ready for some overnight visitors. The house glistened proudly in the sunshine, ready to welcome our guests.
Spicy chilli, brown rice, garlic bread. We all cramped around our little table, enjoying our food and conversation. For me it was getting to know new people, for Daniel it was getting them to know him how he is now, moved so far away from childhood friendships. Exciting for both of us.
Evening drinks in the pub, lots of new names and faces. A gently cool evening, almost like summer. The moon so bright in the sky there was almost no need for street lights.
Awake this morning with a thumping head, subdued with painkillers for a couple more hours' sleep. Waking my senses to the smell of bacon and eggs, too sleepy to do much but nibble toast and sip tea. Once the house was empty again, we scuttled guiltily back to bed, hidden away from the glorious morning sunshine for a couple more hours.
Cycling by the river in the afternoon, barbecue and blossom teasing my nose. The world was alive with people enjoying the sun - on foot, by bike, by boat - everywhere was buzzing with activity.
Lounging in the sun doing not much at all, simply admiring the blueness of the sky and the flowers standing so upright towards the sun. A slow, lazy Sunday, almost one-of-a-kind; confused with tiredness and brightness, hunger and nausea, busyness and solitude.