The unidentified creature in the roof space above my kitchen
is giving audible notice of its presence again. I wish such things didn’t get
on my nerves, but they do.
After a rare dry, bright day, the walk was wet again
tonight. No Aboriginals in the shadows, though. As far as I know.
I noticed that the running water has washed away some
hardcore and left a pothole at the edge of the lane, just where my ground leads
onto it. It’s a bit deep to want to put a car wheel in there. Must think of a
way to repair it without spending money.
I’m finding that, by and large, Dracula is quite well written. Occasionally, though, Stoker makes a
real howler. Did he have an editor?
I suspect there might be somebody in the village who doesn’t
really want me here, but I don’t know who. Too involved to bother explaining.
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