Resuming Normal Service.

I haven’t talked much about The Shire recently, have I? That’s partly because I haven’t had much to do with The Shire this past week or so. The growing imperative to get on top of the autumn clearance work has necessitated a temporary hiatus in the daylight rambles, and the only social event to have taken place since the pre-Hallowe’en bonfire seemed hardly worth attending.

But maybe the hiatus isn’t so temporary, because there’s another reason. The spot which is, for me, the most magical in all The Shire has lately been subjected to the incipient spread of various pollutants and bad blood, and this has led to the magic fading. I’ve always found that the appreciation of the wider environment depends on the maintenance of a comfortable base, and when cracks appear in the base, the rest crumbles. To those familiar with Mists, I might pose the question: if the Saxon horde were to invade Avalon itself, what price then the groves, springs and standing stones?

But, we make the best of what we have and march on. And maybe things will improve. Or maybe I’ll have to come to terms with the fact that the palpable but subtle magic that I used to feel here has been drowned by the not so subtle noise of the tram line mentality. Maybe there is no Avalon and Shire, just a place to live. In short, maybe I need to stop being fanciful and try to become normal like everybody else. But then I would have to stop being me, wouldn’t I?