Friday. Lights out after nine to sleep pretty much straight through until six and get up on an overcast (they're saying rain later) morning to walk to breakfast with the eyes watering in the quite cold air, arriving by seven to find the restaurant open. Good. Except for the cold.

The two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast over the papers, to finish at a quarter to nine and head back to the apartment, taking the usual pictures of scooters, the sidewalk, the Lakeview school flowers, the students’ scooters and the hands of time. Well, its discarded gloves, to be more accurate.

We're going off the tracks there.

That's what came to mind: The Hands of Time. Something to do, I suspect, with the various global warming concerns that rattle about at the back of my mind.

Later. No rain yet in the late afternoon. A bath, an attempt at a nap (without any luck) and that's been about it for the afternoon.

The particulate count, these last couple of weeks, has been out of the green and into the sixties and seventies and I've been wondering why, particularly with the rain and the fog, but a piece in the paper today said it was local wood smoke from fire places combined with pollution coming in from the Central Valley and it would get much better when the wind changed direction and started coming in from the ocean later this evening. Still, wood smoke. The Paradise Camp fires have made us pay attention to a long list of things.

Evening. Nothing on television. None of the PBS fund raising concerts interest me at all and so to bed just after eight and lights out at nine-thirty. Tired, felt good, didn't get in a walk, but it's an end of the Friday and the day has gone well.