I think in whispers

The patter of gentle rain on the coachroof is the only sound I can hear. Tired cabbage boils gently with the fresh cauliflower and carrots I bought before leaving the elegant surroundings of Savonlinna, the home to an opera festival each July.  I was fortunate enough to get tickets for the final of the international opera competition (where the standard was good but not outstanding) and Samson & Delilah (where the bass and contralto lead were wonderful).  But Saint-Saens is not my favourite composer and I shall have to call at Savonlina again (inevitable on the way back down south) to take in La Traviata later in the month and pay my respects to Verdi. 

For now I enjoy the silence.  It and the surroundings are overwhelming.  No hint of a human being anywhere to be seen.  No houses, no boats, no man made structures of any kind, just water and tree covered islands. I am anchored in a small bay invisible to the world.  Even life in deepest Dorset wasn't like this.  For once I don't listen to music on the ipod; it would spoil the intensity of nature that surrounds me.  I even think in whispers so as not to disturb the tranquilty of the moment.

I wish Zach, my dog, were with me.  He'd love a run through the forested landscape, new smells, new encounters - what doggy dreams are made of. But Zach is in Graz, Austria with my son and enjoying every minute Adam tells me.  His new hobby?  Mountaineering.  He loved the hills in Dorset but they don't match the splendour of the mountains near Graz.

If it's fine tomorrow I'll take a (another) day off and sunbathe all day.  Go for a swim if I'm feeling energetic.  Zach would love that too.  He loved water so much he must have had some porpoise in him.

At times like this one becomes introspective.  At least I do.  I think about my life and how I've ended up where I've ended up.  I think about the retirement I'd planned.  Sharing the declining years in a cottage with a loving wife and a dog.  Now I have none of that.  Some, looking at me now, would say how lucky I am.  A boat and the freedom to sail it where I please.  And, as lovely as it sounds, I have to agree, but only up to a point.  The more discerning amongst you will know what's missing .........