Usually I sleep well in the heat but last night was the exception, perhaps because I forgot to open window and bedroom door to ensure airflow, as I've found recently this makes quite a difference to sleep quality. Jas and I went out to Thompson's Park after breakfast to check the moorhen nest. Still there, no change, thankfully.
Mother Frances called by for a chat before lunch. Clare and Jas went into town to shop, and but Jas a train ticket to London for Saturday. Later in the afternoon, after I had a catch-up snooze, we went for another walk to Thompson's Park and then down to Blackweir, where there was no sign of the baby ducklings to be seen, as children were swimming in the river and sunning themselves.
We returned home to fish pie and veggies for supper, plus a handful of Strawberries gleaned from the plants in the tub at the end of Meadow Street. The evening's news spoke of evidence found of the Titan submarine's demise on its way down to view the wreck of the Titanic with a loss of all lives on board. At four thousand metres depth water pressure is so great, even the most strongly engineered vessel is at risk of being crushed, unless it's design is more than adequate for the task. The slightest flaw or weakness in the hull will produce catastrophic failure. It implodes in a fraction of a second, bringing instant death to the occupants. A group of people rich enough to afford such a trip had their lives cut short. To what end?
After supper I talked with my sister for nearly and hour, and the went out for a cooling walk in the dark under a waxing crescent moon with Venus in close attendance under a clear cool sky. A refreshing way to end the day.
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