Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

Sunday Morning

A weather front from Russia has come muscling in and shoved aside the African winds that were keeping us warm. There was frost this morning- and next door's sheep in their still shadowy field were all but invisible, white on white.

Bo is putting in all the hours he can to get the outside jobs finished before things turn nasty. It's a cold day but clear and sunny. He and his mate are taking out one of my mother's bedroom windows so they can replace a rotten sill; he assures me he'll have it back again before nightfall.

There's a lot of noise. One of the guys is hammering, the other is using some sort of a power tool. Bo's mate wears a head set and is continually on the phone.
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