Jett and I packed our beach bag and just as I was grabbing the keys, he said Mum, it's raining. And for the last hour it's been constantly spitting. It's lovely to be here, it's true. But remember that mountain beside us, owned by the brother of a President from somewhere? Well, they are still doing works. They started the trucks at 7.30. That's ok. I'm not a yoga practitioner for nothing. Though if Jett walks around in bare feet again on these tiles, I will certainly lose it with him.
No comments:
Post a Comment