Yesterday we awoke to a gloriously sunny morning, not a cloud in sight. Over coffee, Jamie and I discussed how restlessly we had slept. We'd both been startled from sleep by a huge bang and then on and off again by what sounded like people up and about in the house. I got up once to investigate and encountered Jack up to use the loo, but nothing else unusual. The mystery unsolved, we set about our day. Jamie went off to work in his pajamas (we have casual Wednesdays here) in our bedroom/office and I decided to head to town centre for some shopping and browsing before my knitting group. As I tidied the kitchen I noticed through the window that many of the daffodils in the garden had lifted their little golden heads, as eager to soak up the sun as I was.
After arriving downtown, I encountered a sale rack in one of my favourite stores and slipped into the fitting room. While admiring myself in the mirror, I overheard a group of women discussing the earthquake that had struck our fair isle with a magnitude of 5.3. It was felt all the way to Norway! It was the talk of the town. From every news agent the headlines screamed of the first quake to have hit Britain in over 25 years. It was the kind of thing we'd expected in California, but who knew they hit here? I didn't even have my earthquake kit ready. I headed to York's central square and noticed that many of the cafes had set up tables and chairs out on the pavement. Considering this an invitation, I put in my order and pulled out my book. I sat quite contentedly, talk of the quake swirling about, sipping my coffee and munching my tea cakes.
P.S. It should also be mentioned that when the kids got home from school, Coleson told us he'd set his alarm for 2 am to get up and watch a basketball game on t.v. The "noises in the night" mystery solved, we banned all future middle of the night sporting events (well, most of them...).