Approaching Winter and an Auspicious Day.

We’ve had a few sub-zero nights recently, so today I decided that a shift to winter rig was in order. Flannel sheets replaced the summer cotton ones on the bed, the chimney was swept, and the first coal fire lit in the living room. Now I have to decide when and whether to resume the night walks and regale the blog with tales of stars, subtle senses, and strange sounds beyond the hedgerow.

(I wonder whether Mill Lane is still there; I’ve heard some very strange sounds in Mill Lane. I expect it is; I doubt anybody will have dug it up or anything. As long as Madeline hasn’t been here without me knowing, of course. She likes digging things up.)

The thing is, you see, you get the best view of the stars from Mill Lane, and the creepy copse is all the creepier for being up on the rise and in skeletal aspect. And then there are the little people. I swear the Mill Lane crowd are most appreciative of my singing, and they haven’t heard Raglan Road for… ooh… seven months?

S’ppose I’d better, then.

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And I gather it’s Thanksgiving in the American Colonies on Thursday. Better give thanks for me in that case, because it’s my birthday that day.

When I was a kid, your birthday was the one day in the year when your parents weren’t allowed to scold you. You could do whatever you wanted and get away with it. I tried it one year. It didn’t work.