What’s the point of sunrise?
Ok, its biblical; let there be light, and there is light, every day, reaffirming our belief in a supreme being even after Zidane retired from football.
But sunrise is something you just take for granted, presumptuous fuckers that we (homo sapiens, early 2nd Millenium, face-lift version) have become.
There are times when you really ‘do’ the sunrise, but that invariably involves a rock, hill or mountain. Then some fucker wakes you up at 5 in great excitement and even though you really just want to punch that enthusiasm right off his face, roll over and go back to sleep, you get up and watch the sun come up and go: ‘yeah, wow, fucking great; now let’s go back to bed’. Like the rock wouldn’t be there 4 hours later. ITS BEEN THERE FOR 3.5 MILLION YEARS BUT I GOTTA GET UP NOWWWWWW!!!!!!
Ok, sunrise. Great thing. To be enjoyed. We did Ayers Rock, that was sooooo 2012.

But this morning we awoke early. Like really really really, half past four in the morning early. Definitely due to insufficient tequila abuse last night (and trust me; that will NOT happen again) or maybe because we’re just a couple of jet-slags.

Four in the morning here is 10am at home. Time to be up. Tennis time. Work time. Tai Chi time. Preparation for the afternoon kick-off time. By 6 we were on the balcony with tea (so British) and reading and watching the sun come up over whatever particular sea they have here in Mexico. Atlantic? Caribbean? South China?? I don’t know. Big wet one. And it was a beautiful warm, sunny morning.

By 7 we were in the pool swimming lengths.
Now Mel is a Swimmer. Her family evolved late from the fishes, like about 1972 or thereabouts. So she swims every day anyway. I don’t. Truth be told, swimming lengths for exercise is right up there with jogging, with going to the gym, with watching Arsenal, with having red hot screwdrivers stuck in my testicles (unless I’m in my rubber evening dress, then its different), as things to be avoided at all cost.

But I relent on holidays and swim with her. I’m no Mel in the water. But I did my best Rebecca Addlington and went for it. Ok, unlike poor Becks I don’t have body issue problems; I KNOW I’m fucking divine. And also unlike poor Becks, I don’t have much swimming style.

Yet for all my gloating about poor bastards stuck in flooding England, we had 6 hours of the most torrential rain here yesterday. Like biblical rain. Noah came knocking, type rain.

More forecast for today.

But am I complaining??

Happy saturday

A xxxxx