The Shire tonight: cold, windy, damp, dark. Somebody flashed their headlights at me, though I haven’t a clue who it was. I waved anyway, just in case I was supposed to.
The beer tonight: Bulldog Strong Ale (6.3% ABV) which says on the label ‘Imported from England.’ It gets odder. The next line says: ‘Birra doppio malto da consumarsi preferibilmente entro.’ I’m drinking it anyway, even though I haven’t a clue what it means. You don’t care when you’re depressed.
Tonight’s activity: writing a very short story. Since it’s so short I’ll post it here, even though you won’t have a clue as to what it relates. It’s called The Tale of Gonwid. Sounds Arthurian, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Oh. That's OK; it isn't.