My second pot of coffee for the day. Kenyan Blue Mountain. Flavourful.
A scorcher of a day; the mountain is hazy in strong and surreal sunlight. I'd love to be free and at Kirtsenbosch gardens.
Stripped to my underwear I'm attempting to work, at home. It's a hurry up and wait scenario reminiscent of my army days. Stop. Go. Stop. I'm being ground to a halt by technology shit, endlessly. While my Netbook has served me well the last three and a half years it's way past its sell-by date. Long past. I could hurtle it through the attic's picture perfect cottage panes.
One iPad charging.
One Samsung on flight mode to avoid interruptions.
One alarm set for 90 minutes from now.
One empty frog faced coffee mug.
One half full Bodum french press; it's an old and battered white one, my favourite in the house.
One swimming pool waiting for me, after my alarm had rung.
One neighbour's lawn mower cutting dry grass and mincing pebbles.
Where I'd rather be? The Seapoint photo I took yesterday says it all.