Daily life within a small radius was provided for by weekly or daily markets in the town… Supplies came in from the surrounding areas…
The Structures of Everyday Life
Fernand Braudel
Nick was sitting in the back garden, at a table set on an area of slate slabs. There was a clay pitcher of ale and two wooden mugs on the table. In the summer, the leafy vines wrapped through the beams above his head would give pleasant shade, but now were only studded with buds, promising greenery to come. The two trees and the flowers laid out in their pots and urns were all showing bright green. Vegetables were poking green lines of shoots from their ordered beds. He was enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun. It was a nice day, the sun breaking through the white clouds scudding across the sky. Nick drank in the sun and the colors, so refreshing after the long grey and cold of the Netherlands winter. He hiked up his doublet and checked the stitches. Not bad. Some redness, swelling, still tender, but no pus, no stink. But still tender enough to put paid to any dreams of bed play. His lips quirked in remembrance of that morning’s encounter between himself and ‘gritte and his cock twitched a bit as he recalled the feel of her. He tilted his head back, taking the sun’s rays full on his face.
“What a beached whale! Or is it a walrus, basking on a rock?” Continue reading “(Broken Instrument) CHAPTER 9: NICK: A SMALL BOY WITH A LARGE CHEESE”