Sunday

The country was grand. Luke's back, he had a great time. "I can't believe how fucking cold it is, though," he said. He bought back some beautiful woven materials.

I had lunch at my sister's, with my family, Saturday. My sister lives in the country, the next town to Bolago. We tagged some lambs and put rings on their tails. We helped the little, sickly new borns, in the barn with their mothers for protection from the cold, drink from their mother's teets for the first time. We all hung over the pen walls, as my sister positioned the lambs correctly, as my brother in law held the mother. When the tractor was backed out and something was said about feed in the paddocks, I decided it was time to leave.

I drove back to the city this morning, to go bike riding with Charlie. I was nervous. We had coffee, instead. Of course, I didn't get his text message yesterday, confirming that we were still on, because Bolago has no reception. I didn't get it until I was driving out of the drive way this morning. He'd had a late night, so he didn't wake till midday. He came over in the afternoon. I stupidly made him sit out side in the cold, at the cafe, because, of course, I wanted to smoke. So I was cold rather than relaxed. Then he came back to my pace and we drank coffee and chatted. When he said he should go, I just stood up and said okay then. Stupidly. Just not thinking. You know when you regret something the moment you've done it. I should have said, you don't have to. He'd already said he wasn't doing anything tonight.