Killing Time

Two hares the size of spaniels frolicked in the field for a long time yesterday while the sun shone down on them and turned their coats to bright auburn. Surely they don't think it's spring? I hope they aren't mating already and will produce babies in the snow. I had such a strange day. Helen and I played bridge after a long gap, and were so bad I wasn't surprised to find that we had come last in  our section. That's a first. A first last. I was meeting Ruth later to see He Named Me Malala, and decided to go straight to Aldeburgh and kill time until the evening, so headed to the good old Wentworth Hotel for tea. Wouldn't it be funny if it was closed, I teased myself, and laughed. But 'Closed for Refurbishment', the sign outside said, which I didn't see it and had spread myself all over my favourite comfy sofa before someone spotted me. On to the White Lion Hotel then, not quite so luxurious but fine. I found another sofa and went to order tea which I didn't really want, but the receptionist was on the phone and in the end I just made myself at home, free. I tried to concentrate on the crossword, but couldn't ignore the arriving couples being checked in for their mid-week breaks. How happy they all sounded, pleased to be staying in this lovely old town in a hotel right by the sea. Book in for dinner? Oh yes please! Early morning call and tea? Oh yes please! Paper? Please! I recognised the sensation, being chuffed to be on holiday and eager to make it great. At last it was time for my fish and chip supper, and I ate this in the car as usual, silently gloating as as the vehicle filled with steam and passers-by did a double take at the sight of me in the dark. I was just opening my ice cream tub in the cinema foyer when Ruth arrived half an hour early, and brought some normality to the day. I probably won't do that again, especially in the winter. It was a pointless economy.