Yesterday. In the morning, I walk the dog along the beach. The sky is reddish-purple from the light of the rising sun. A woman in a white bathrobe and sandals in her hands walks with me up the beach entrance. I turn left.

‘How beautiful, hey,’ she calls to me, pointing to the color spectacle on the horizon.
2500 steps and 2500 back is my goal for this morning’s walk. I walked the double yesterday, but now the 2500 steps are already weighing me down.

Installed myself behind a small table in the upstairs bedroom. Later, I switch the chair. The wooden case behind the desk is handy for hanging clothes over but not for sitting on.

Everyone seems to avoid doing as many things as possible.

At lunchtime, I cycle to the berry shed. We have agreed to eat lunch here in the form of a Cranberry pie. The cake is excellent. The building is almost empty. On the walls hang placards recounting the history of cranberry on Terschelling. Washed ashore, then cultivated, that’s the bottom line.

I wanted to stop work on time, but it turned out to be half past five.

After pumpkin soup with pumpkins from the picking garden, I went to the beach again with W. and the dog.