Orange, pink, blue, a splash of yellow and a dash of red and white

8 to 11 April 2015

My second week of early shift started with a breathtaking Wednesday sunrise over the River Itchen. Pinkening clouds on the horizon painted the gently rippled water where a pair of lonely swans dipped their heads searching for breakfast. I dawdled along the boardwalk drinking in the beauty of it all. Half way along the Suki II seemed to be floating on the dawn sky and the trees on the far bank were half hidden in early morning mist. Through it I could just make out my usual path beside the jetties and the line of little yachts.

On Horseshoe Bridge I lingered for a moment, looking back as the sky smouldered behind the trees. It was hard to drag myself away to go on to the office and face the day. By the time the business of opening up was complete and a few overnight social media queries answered the RCSM had arrived. She was the bearer of bad news, at least she thought she was. The lovely Elaine, my Saturday partner in crime, has handed in her notice. Of course, I already knew because I’d helped Elaine prepare for her job interview and she’d texted me to tell me she’d got the job over the weekend. Even so, I had to feign surprise. The sadness was not an act though. Much as I wanted her to get the job, there was a huge part of me that hoped she wouldn’t because I will miss her terribly. Our loss is their gain.

The news seemed to unsettle the team and, despite a huge box of cakes baked by the RCSM’s daughter, it was an strange, slightly morose, day. Walking home along the jetty by the Millenium flats the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the early rising seemed well worth the payoff. When winter comes and I’m walking to work in pitch blackness I may feel differently. Then again, I guess I’ll have sunsets to look forward to. There’s an upside to everything and dawn and dusk feel like upsides to me.

Thursday morning was colder and mistier. It seemed darker as I made my way towards the river and, when I got there, the sky was disappointing. The swans were just waking up as I came round the bend, preening and cleaning as if in a mass morning wash. The pink glow on the misty horizon reflected in the water was hardly breathtaking. My fingers were going numb because I’d foolishly left my gloves at home.

As I walked along the boardwalk though the pinkness grew deeper. Behind the distant trees I saw what looked at first like a fire. It soon became clear it was no fire, it was the orange ball of the sun slowly rising. Despite the cold I stood for a while and watched as it gradually rose above the trees. Do mornings get any better than this, I wondered?

The first thing I did when I reached the office was make a cup of coffee to warm my hands around. There was a small disaster when Veronica called to say she’d broken down and was stuck by the side of the road. So I found myself alone for the first half hour while Pam drove down with Mark to pick her up and push the car to a safe place. Luckily it was quiet. It didn’t stay that way. We had a busy day on the phones, mostly due to holiday traffic in the west of England causing huge tailbacks and delaying buses.

It was another blue sky walk home across Cobden Bridge with a hint of the morning mist still hanging in the air. The gate to the building site close to the Triangle was half open as I passed and I took the opportunity to take a sneaky picture of the ghost sign on the side of the waterside building for prosterity. When it was painted is anyone’s guess and I have no idea what Ekco Radio was but it’s been part of the landscape for as long as I can remember. Once the new buildings go up I suppose it will be hidden forever.

The Friday morning news warned of smog. Looking out the French window there did seem to be a slight haze but nothing too frightening. It was warmer outside but still hazy when I got to the river with a layer of cloud hanging overhead. The swans didn’t seem to mind it though and, as I walked, the pink glow spread through the layers of whatever it was that was hanging in the air.

It it seemed to me that the smog the weatherman had made so much of was nothing more than a slight veil over the distant trees. Yes they were less distinct than they’d been in the morning mist the day before but hardly newsworthy. As it was warmer and I was a little early I hung around waiting for the sun to rise above the tree line. When it did the combination of cloud and smog made for a beautiful sky.

A gauzy veil hung over the city all day but thankfully didn’t cause any traffic problems that we were aware of. The RCSM was in the office again, with yet more cakes. This office seems to be awash with cakes and sweets at the best of times, it’s a wonder any of us have any teeth. She was pleased with the progress we’ve made on the backlog of complaints, despite a few staffing issues. In fact, it is now so small the email mountain is now hardly even a molehill.

On the way home I bent to take a photo of the brilliant yellow splash of dandelions on the edge of the boardwalk. The week seemed to have been all pinks, oranges and blues so it was nice to add another colour to the list. Just then a cyclist came whizzing past and nearly knocked me over. I guess he didn’t expect to see someone crouching at the side of the path.  For a change I’d decided to walk back across the boardwalk and, when I got to the corner, the black swans were back. One white swan didn’t seem too pleased about it, rearing up and flapping his wings madly at them.

Looking over at the skeleton ship on the other side of the bridge the smog was more noticeable and I hurried on towards Chessel Bay, eager to get home. There was one stop to look at a mass of bright daisies on the bank beside the steps to the railway bridge. They certainly cheered the place up.

When I got home there was no one in, which is hardly unusual for a Friday night. I put my hand in my coat pocket for my key. It wasn’t there. Cursing a little, I put my bag down on the deck and began to ferret through it. Still no key. The contents of the bag was tipped out and rifled through but the key wasn’t there. When I’d changed to my thinner parka I’d obviously neglected to move the key from one pocket to the other.

This was very bad news because Commando wouldn’t be home from his overtime shift until nine fifteen and goodness only knew where Commando Junior was. Feeling a slight panic, I sat on the deck and phoned my missing son, noting as I did that my phone was low on battery.
“Where are you?” I asked when he finally answered.
“In town,” he replied.
“I’m locked out,” I said, “do you have your key?”
“You must have had it when you went out, how did you unlock the door?” He said unhelpfully.
“I went out the front way because it was dark and I’m not tall enough to set off the light at the side of the house,” I snapped.
There was a bit of swearing, then my phone died.

With no idea if he was actually coming back to let me in, no food, no drink and the light fading by the second I sat on the deck and felt like crying. Being the sort of person who finds inactivity torture I didn’t stay there long. For a while I paced around the garden looking at things that needed doing. Then I thought I might as well do some of them, seeing as I was stuck outside anyway. The light in the back garden was already going so I grabbed some shears and went out to the front where I worked away tidying up the privet balls and trimming the olive tree. My neighbour came out to empty his bin and said hello. He was looking at me a bit oddly for some reason.

An hour later, with no sign of my son, I was running out of things to do. By this time I figured he wasn’t coming back and I was beginning to get a bit cross. This is the first time I’ve ever forgotten my key, while he has woken me in the middle of the night when he’s forgotten his with monotonous regularity. By now I was getting hungry and thirsty and it was beginning to get dark. I grabbed my bag and walked down to the petrol station, figuring I’d bump into Commando Junior on the way if he was coming back.

Even walking really slowly it took all of twenty minutes. Walking back I was wondering what I was going to do for the next two and a bit hours, in my garden in the dark. I slumped down onto the deck feeling very sorry for myself, leaned against the door and began to drink the chocolate milk I’d bought. Just then Commando Junior came round the corner looking quite sheepish. He’d obviously thought better of leaving me outside in the end. As I took my coat off and hung it up I realised I’d had my high vis jacket on all the time, no wonder my neighbour was looking at me oddly. Not many people do their garden at dusk in a high vis jacket after all.

There were threatening looking clouds outside on Saturday morning. As I made my way towards Cobden Bridge I thought I felt a few spots of rain but they didn’t come to anything. The pink came from magnolia flowers in a garden rather than the sky and I hurried along to get the team’s pain au chocolate from the Tesco Express. On the bridge gulls were flying about wildly, another indication of rain to come. There was a touch of colour to the sky but it didn’t come to much through the clouds. The rain held off until I made it to the office.

Being Elaine’s last Saturday, it was a bittersweet day. We had our share of laughs between the calls. Mia came in with sweets that were so sour they made you close one eye and we laughed at the faces we were pulling as we tried them. As the afternoon wore on, Elaine kept us abreast of the football scores. Commando and Commando Junior were at the match so I was pleased when Saints scored two goals and kept a clean sheet.

At five o’clock I left work, knowing Saints had won the match. The sporadic rain of the morning was gone and the sky was beautifully blue with a veil of thin, icy looking clouds high up and some pretty cumulus setting it off. When I finally made it through the tide of  fans on the boardwalk, adding red and white to the colours of the week, Commando and Commando Junior were waiting for me on the corner. Commando was chatting to one of his workmates who’d been at the match and, while he waited, Commando Junior climbed down onto the rocky shore to take pictures of the black swans. Like mother like son!

I wonder what colours next week will be?