Esprit d'escalier

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Oh, there were things I was going to tell you. They rattled about in my head all day. They involved: Einstein, mortality, the dream theory of Carl Jung, the significance of the number 28, the surprising stages of grief, the complexities of memory, my aunt Tessa, and one other thing I can't now remember.

And now, there is only a faint trace memory of all those coruscating sentences that were going to illuminate your Sunday evening. It's a sort of esprit d'escalier in reverse.

I do apologise. Now it is getting late, and I am tired, and my poor old crocked brain is begging for mercy, and the fingers are slowly, slowly, forgetting how to type. I squint at the screen and think, like a cross old major-general: what, what?

I'll tell you what though. That Pigeon was on dazzling form today, taking sweetness to hitherto unperceived levels. I cannot help but suspect that sometimes she knows I am a little stressed and strained, and so thinks up special diversions to delight me. Today's included: comical rolling, cartoon faces, antic leaping, fast running, and her usual majestic ball action.

I think to myself: What did I do, before that dog?

 

Now for the pictures.

Here is what the sheep, leaves, trees, flowers, lichen, moss, Pigeon and hill looked like today: