I’m sitting in front of the telly, watching BBC4’s “Around the World By Zeppelin” – a documentary about journalist Lady Grace Drummond-Hay’s journey in a Graf Zeppelin in 1929. It takes the form of her diary – which is both about the journey and more personal matters – she was in love with the man she was working with and they had a history, so there are two journeys, really, because as they travel the doors between them open and close and open. There’s a lot of archive footage from the journey itself, and some fascinating observations of the international political realities and anxieties of the day. Charming and engaging (film of a whale and its calf, from the air! Some lovely photography), and a true adventure story.
And here, the door to the garden is open. Bats are flapping about just outside it. This evening I’ve seen the first cockchafers of the year, flying bum-heavy around the cherry tree. I’m eating a perfect meal: some positively savage blue cheese, some Italian salami, and a very sweet apple, which I have sort of tucked into my cleavage to prevent it from rolling about, as my plate is too small to fit it on. After every little sliver of the cheese, I have a bite of the apple.
I conked out for an hour this afternoon, as if someone had thrown a switch. I couldn’t move at all when I woke, for about half an hour. This is not unusual. I dislike it a great deal. However often it happens, it is always a little bit frightening, not being able to move.
The cats are in bed. Nothing at all has happened. It has been a good day. The garden was so beautiful, today.