I woke up this morning with that old sense of anxiety,
foreboding even, sitting in the pit of my stomach. It’s a sense that the
invader is just over the hill, or the landlord’s henchmen are on their way to
kill the animals and torch the croft (I often wonder why, of all the nasty
events in history, it’s the plight of those left destitute by the Highland Clearances
that is always freshest in my mind.)
So, where did that come from, I wonder. I’ve had it a lot
over the last year, but it hasn’t troubled me for some time now. I suppose it
was probably last night’s twin assaults on those connections I thought myself
to be holding. Must get out and try to shake it off.
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