Today's Epilogue.

I read today about Sarah Sanders being asked to leave a restaurant because of her connection to the Trump administration. The good side of me thought it ungracious, mean-minded and possibly counter-productive, while the bad side inwardly applauded. I expect Donald will call it fake news.

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I also read about the debate over the ‘Chinese Influence’ problem in Australia, and how it’s encouraging anti-Chinese racist attitudes towards Australian-Chinese people. If this ever impacts on the superior one known as the Priestess I will be most displeased.

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The alpaca on the far side of the field off Mill Lane watched me for some time today but declined to come over and say hello. I assume he or she thought me unworthy of the effort. It didn’t surprise or disturb me since Mill Lane is that sort of lane.

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There’s another lane in the Shire curiously named Squashly Bank which rises steeply out of the village to a plateau called Roston Common. At one point there’s a charming little tree-shrouded glen which struck me as an ideal place for a hobbit to hide from the Nazgul. Must make a note for future reference.

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And it occurred to me today that there is something chillingly compelling about watching death approach you on the road and greeting him with ‘OK, so show me what comes next.’ I might resurrect this subject later in the year if the next set of scans prove unfavourable to my interests. In the meantime I’m growing tired of the pains, the discomfort and the generally feeling ill. And it troubles me that my enforced idleness is now morphing into outright laziness. Something has to give some time, and I’m wondering just who Old Father Time is choosing as a travelling companion. 

Night.