further north on the longest day

After sleeping only a little bit mid-day, upon my arrival in London, I stayed social and bounced around Waitrose and helped put on dinner and then unceremoniously crashed out watching Wimbledon on the couch with Gwen.

What I know about tennis I get from Imelda and the New York Times/New York/Sports Illustrated coverage of Rafael Nadal (a few of which are, admittedly, not too far apart) -- so watching, or drowsing through, Wimbledon with a native Briton who knows the points and recognizes the young players was a sleepy blast. I guess I'm cheering for Andy Murray! One match played until 9:15, though, and it seemed so strange - the minor games, the kids are so young.

And I was still struck, when I hauled myself upstairs, and how light it still was, at 10 p.m. It looked like just after sundown, if that. I mentioned it to G again, and she reminded me that it is the longest day of the year. Somehow this naturalizes the dislocation of a lost night and jet lag a little. When you haven't noticed the longest day creeping up on you, it's alright if it feels like you're suddenly close to the Arctic Circle, in the evening light. I could sleep until next fall, kids...but tomorrow morning will have to do.