Mumbles.

What with various sorts of busy-ness, a very long phone call, and being down in that basement place that I’ve come to think of as home lately, my routines have been a bit messed up today. No reading of Dracula, no watching episodes of Jonathan Creek, and – most disturbingly of all – I’ve neglected my blog.

I feel inclined to apologise for the last of them, but that would be unconscionably egotistical, wouldn't it? Well actually, it wouldn't. It would have more to do with me fearing to have failed in a self-imposed duty, but let's let that one go. And now I'm finally settled in front of the computer, I don't have anything much worth saying.

I can report that it's turned cold in The Shire. The ground stayed frozen all day today, so I had my first coal fire of the winter tonight.

I can tell you that I was going to make a post at about this time last night explaining why I've now lost all respect for Bram Stoker as a writer. I didn't because Blogger wouldn't let me, so I'll tag it onto the next Dracula update. I do intend to finish it because I want to know what happens in the end.

And I suppose I might mention that I used my blogging exile last night to re-connect with my youth. I spent an interesting hour on YouTube, going through lots of old songs that meant a lot to me then. It's an oddly dispiriting experience to become again that person whose book of life still had a majority of pages unread, and then compare the expectation with the reality. I need a timeless place - a place in which not only time is suspended, but also the very perception of time. This is the point at which I get out of my depth.

OK, mumbles over.