Twelve hour days, banging out words. 2300 of them, today, on my Engineering report.
Four dozen chocolate chip cookies, rolled out this evening, after dinner, in the palms of our hands, getting ready for our family weekend in the Kruger Park. A call from Jonathan this morning, basking by the river in the South of France, before he flies out from Heathrow Wednesday night. How many digits did he dial?
Eighty years, or nearly, my mother has been on this planet, from the day she landed, wriggling and crying, on a bed or table or crib somewhere. My own birth, how many years ago? Between us, Rob and I have clocked up a few miles or so, I guess. How many? You guess – or do the math.
How many weekends now, till we do our Canada geese flying trick, and head out from African summer into snowy Ontario?