Today I put in train the only prospective plan I can think of that might solve the worst of the problems. It’s risky. It might have the desired effect, it might have no effect, or it might even make matters worse. But I have to try. The magic that was once here has become buried by the mud of shifting fortune, and I want it back.
Monday, 11 February 2013
A Note after the Break.
The last five days have brought an unusually high concentration of troubles: some technical, temporary, and therefore merely irritating; some perennial, corrosive, and increasingly debilitating. My continued dwelling in the beloved Shire is on the line, you see. The benefit and beauty of living here is being counteracted by increasing discomfort, and so the balance is shifting.