.... so, thanks to my daughter for waking us up at 4am! But what to do? We are - to use that appalling portmanteau - having a 'staycation' and will head for town later to potter in the shops and munch on some lunch. The temperature has reached a happy 25 degrees celsius (77F) which makes it nigh on sultry for us Brits.
The other possiblities are legion. I have a volume of Albert Borgmann on the table which has been awaiting my attention for some time. I also have a pile of unwatched films arising from the near total incompatibility of my wife and me over film choices. My office bookshelves are begging me to sort them out after seven months of disorder since we moved house. And, well, it's just so nice outside ...
The week looks busy otherwise. Tomorrow is billed as a daddy-and-daughter day while my wife disappears to a conference. Thursday involves a trip to Manchester to see my parents. Friday of course means the Olympics!
But let me not resort to the stereotype of needing a holiday after my holiday: away from me, all ye linguistic procrustes! I shall place the holiday under the sign of Pieper.