Routine


 I make a point of going out for a walk when I’m on night shifts. 
Even the shortest of ambles breaks the claustrophobic monotony of working all night and sleeping all day.

We walked down the lane at six pm. It was overcast and cooling rapidly and the sky had a slightly yellow tinge to it. 
It suddenly feels like autumn.
And of rain.
Untidy black “V’s” of Canada geese move east in the sky and the ponies, fortified  by being fed and watered by their owner Sue cantered up and down field neighing and whickering excitedly .
Albert remained home, hunched on the lawn, pretending not to be watching out for the house sparrows chattering inside the honeysuckle by the front door.
We amble home. 
Under the new arch over the gate, which still sports the final sweet pea blooms of summer.
The dogs curl up together on the couch to keep warm as I get ready for work. 

Life plods on




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