The stupid pidgeons are still trying to nest inappropriately

Meteorologically, an interesting sort of a week. We have the tail of tropical storm Katia to the North and there has been a deal of blowing and swirling around these parts too. The weekend was a little showery at the start, dampening my children who were turfed out, briefly, to worry the crabs at a local quay, while I visited a library and community centre on Saturday. On Sunday I looked out on the apples on the tree in the garden every time I passed through the kitchen, but I never got around to picking them, ready though they are. The red apple tree has exceeded the appetites of the usual vermin in its productivity this year, so I look forward to eating too many beautiful red, sweet apples (my fruit bowl is already full, as well as half a worktop in the kitchen from the drops).

Crossing the car park at work on Monday, the breeze was like standing in the back-draught of a shop doorway air-curtain heater thingy. The breeze infiltrating the summery clothing was warm, humid; completely un-autumnal. As the week has progressed, the air has grown quieter and cooler, but the shreds of cotton-wool lying on the inverted pale-blue carpet this evening are drifting, not rushing and the trees are waving tentatively, instead of doing cheerleader pom-pom impressions.

The Westerly sun is reflecting quite prettily off the slightly faded leaves of the trees, off the fire assembly point and off the retreating car trim of my departing colleagues. The car park lamps are side-lit parodies of 1950's flying saucers. The rabbits haven't come out to play yet.

I've not been sleeping well. Not due to Internet usage except in a way that is so tentatively linked that I would be embarrassed to mention it. The lack of sleep, despite occasional success in tidying the kitchen before bedtime, has caused a failure to write Morning Pages. I'm unwilling to get up at 4am and write, although I'm familiar with the theory that doing something until tiredness can be a good route back to sleep. The Morning Pages process is not conducive to sleep, nor is it a friend to sleepiness; it requires focus to write, discipline, energy. I try to avoid filling my Morning Pages with journalling; my journals are already fragmented enough with two sites online and a paper journal that I keep infrequently these days, except on holidays.

I now know the NATO phonetic alphabet backwards better than I know the English alphabet backwards. Such knowledge is an essential precursor to the RYA VHF SRC course, which is my next stop on the journey towards being able to charter a boat in UK waters. Strange that sailing itself is completely unregulated for pleasure sailors, but that calling the Mayday requires a certificate. I shall soon know my Delta Sierra Charlie from my Golf Mike Delta Sierra Sierra.