Gutelmalan dawn...

Palm trees, misted mountains, a blood red sky... and was that the call of monkeys in the distance? Am I still dreaming?

No, not the tropics or the sun rising over a Guatemalan mountain - just the view from the window of my tiny bedroom in Wales as the day begins.

Seven on a Sunday morning although it felt much earlier, let’s put that down to the time of year, after all sunrise is always at five or six o’clock isn’t it? It’s late September, beginning to get later in the year, that time of year when I begin to find it hard to wake up, harder still to get up early and not waste half the day. Still, the rosy glow of dawn crept into my open curtained room dissipating the darkness and gently waking me.

Early morning confusion, no idea of the time, only that it is almost daylight confirmed by the crowing cockerel along the lane at the farm. I need a pee. So, getting out of my cosy bed I stumble towards the bedroom door – and there it is… the dawn.

What a view. Maybe I am still dreaming.