Here Comes The Sun (again)

George Harrison was reportedly sunbathing in Eric Clapton's garden when he was inspired to write the classic Beatles number "Here Comes the sun". I have it on good authority (Wikipedia) that John Lennon refused to have anything to do with the recording and I like to imagine that he took exception to the inaccuracy of the opening line. It doesn't take an astrophysicist to know that relative to our planet, the sun doesn't actually come or go anywhere and "Here spins the earth" or "There go the clouds" would have been a more appropriate choice of words.

Living on the edge, and after a full-on afternoon and evening yesterday, we have decided that today would be a 'do nothing' day. Relax, stay around the pool, stay home for lunch and cook our own dinner. It is good to have a chilled day, recharge the batteries, read a book, engage in meaningless conversations (you know who I'm talking about) - good for everyone that is except the team blogger. I have to confess to being unhappy with the word blogger in the previous sentence, I know there is a better word for it and I did a quick Google on "what do you call someone who documents what a group does on holiday", but I didn't feel the top answer "just plain weird" was particularly helpful. 

It has been a good day for inactivity. The weather forecast for our week here required just the full sun symbol. Up till now, the temperature has been hot, but not hot-hot, staying in the high 20s (on the Celsius scale) or the low 80s if you are old school. There is a feeling that it is getting hotter each day, and the BBC weather service is confident we will rise into the low 30s by Tuesday. My mum always used to say that I didn't know how to sit still, and that is a trait that I took with me into adult life. But, with yesterday's blog tucked away, I found time to sit on the sofa beside the pool, surrounded by family, with a cup of coffee on one hand, a book in the other and a look of contentment on my face. Such simple pleasures in life cannot be overstated.

If you are familiar with these holiday musings, you will know that I am not a huge fan of outdoor swimming pools. There is a mental barrier between testing the water with a tentative toe and actually getting into the pool. My mind screams at me not to do it and tells me just how cold I am going to feel when I hit the water. It usually takes at least 5 minutes to apply logic (and historical evidence) to the argument and just get on with it. This year, perhaps deliberately at a subconscious level, I even forgot to pack my swim shorts, and until today I had managed to avoid the pool altogether. But the problem with a down day for someone who struggles to stay still is that eventually for the sake of your own sanity you have to do something, even if it is jump into the pool. What's the worst that could happen - I'd get cold and wet, but on the plus side I'd have something to write about. So I borrowed Ben's spare pair of shorts, secretly proud that my BMI still allows me to wear the shorts of a healthy teenager, and approached the edge of the pool. I stuck in a toe and the usual mind games began. I feel that I won the mental tussle quicker than usual and launched myself into water. It was cold, but not as bad as anticipated, and not cold enough to justify changing the title of today's report to Berlin's "Take My Breath Away".Read more