There are few things finer than the spacious feeling that comes with a long weekend holiday. Getting up early, quietly, trying not to disturb a sleeping partner and slipping out of the flat. Funny how noisy everyday actions are when you are trying to be quiet, like turning the key in the lock.
Out into the bright sun of early morning Plymouth and round the Barbican for a walk. So few people around. Some signs of last night’s merry making here and there, abandoned glasses, party balloons. I am imagining some waking up to hangovers today.
I love the sight, sounds and smells of the Barbican by the fishing boats in the morning. Large sea gulls swooping. Nets on decks ready for the next trip out. The reflection of boats in the still water. The way the light falls on the stone buildings. So peaceful.
So I walk, and watch and wonder and stock my mind up with images I can draw on later. The spaciousness of a holiday weekend when there is time just to be wholly in the moment, a welcome break from the cluttered buzzing brain and whirligig of thoughts that make up a working week.