By Dawn's Early Light

Most people complain – reasonably enough – when they have to endure travelling both to and from work in the dark. They claim that they're like pit ponies; never even seeing the light of day. Well strangely, I feel just the opposite. For a couple of weeks now, dawn's rosy fingers have already spread themselves across the sky by the time I get out of bed (at 5:30 a.m.) and although this sounds unlikely, I find this mildly depressing. I'm not quite sure why this is, but I presume it's because it brings with it the realization that we are already hurtling dangerously close to the Solstice. There's nothing wrong with that, I suppose, but I rather like the idea of creeping up slowly towards the Solstice and savouring the growing pleasure of its arrival with the relish of anticipation. These light mornings have rather jumped out at me with a somewhat indecent haste, and I don't feel ready for them. Woah, slow down, year! Don't hurry to throw away your charms too early, please.

Anyway, I'm not thinking about that just yet, because it's still the weekend (just). I've had a lovely time because one of my daughters (the one who lives in Switzerland) has been home for a visit. It's been fun, and over the last two days a vast quantity of wine has been drunk, and an equally vast amount of food. Last night we went to a Greek restaurant just around the corner and made the mistake of ordering three 'Special Meze' from the menu. This is a series of 'tapas' style dishes that are brought to the table in waves – a bit like bombing raids really. When we thought that we really couldn't eat any more, the waiter just kept returning with more and more trays laden with plates of delicious food. It all became quite embarrassing towards the end, and the only thing we could do then was surreptitiously to tip the contents of several plates straight into a plastic carrier bag when the waiter wasn't looking. We rubbed our tummies and licked our lips in appreciation whenever the waiter reappeared; he politely feigned astonishment at our fortitude in clearing the plates, and pretended not to notice the ever-bulging and slightly leaking carrier bag on the floor. The estranged Mrs Pilgrim's little dog has some tasty treats in store, that's for sure.

The weather this weekend hasn't been good – strong winds and heavy showers. But I see from an item on the televisual news this evening, that we will all be shedding some clothes by the end of this week. Hurrah! Now, if the dawn will insist on presenting itself at an indecent hour of the morning, then at least we should get a bit of warm weather to go with it, eh?