Tuesday is special. It's the day when everyone else is out and I am Home Alone!
And I have had such a lovely day. Very ordinary really — dusting and cleaning floors, vacuuming carpets and stairs, polishing things, sorting and tidying, talking to the crows and cutting up dead wood for kindling. And reading, doing the puzzles in The Lady. Nothing special, but so relaxing, in the quietness of my own company. A very precious and happy few hours.
It is the most beautiful autumnal weather — still and sunlit, warm and quiet.
And it's late afternoon, so one by one everybody is coming home, which is also a happy thing. Right now the kettle is on for a cup of tea, and the cats are sitting with me in our bedroom, one washing himself with conscientious care, the other one dozing peacefully.
It's not in great wealth or fame or achievement, not in status or beauty or prowess of any kind that happiness lies. It's in days like this.
NB — Of course, I could be completely wrong about the prowess and fame and wealth and whatnot — like, how would I know?!