I got up this morning to a most unpleasant sense of
abandonment. I thought of telling the whole story as an allegory – the story of
meeting a fellow misfit on the high road among the hills etc, etc – but decided
against it. I’ve said enough wrong things for one week (or maybe it would be
truer to suggest that I’ve said enough right things, but said them badly.)
The dogs have gone out for the day today, which means I can
work in the garden free of being constantly warned off my own piece of ground
by two lovable, but unduly territorial, canines. Since most of the morning has
already gone, I suppose I’d better get on with it. Unfortunately, I’ve also fallen
prey to an odd range of physical pains, which doesn’t bode well for the gardening.
I think the CFS is letting me know that it isn’t easily so defeated. It seems to
be one of the hazards of walking the high road among the hills.
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