Missing the Old Days.

Blog posts are difficult to come by these days. No inspiration, you see. It’s two weeks today since I was out and about among people, and nearly a year since I last perambulated the Shire. The news continues be full of doom, gloom and dire warnings, the Lady B is so far away that I’ll probably never talk to her again so there seems little point in talking about her, the priestess has become a woman of the world, the llama is conspicuous by his absence, and philosophy seems about as much use as Donald Trump on a good day. No bad dreams, no disembodied female voices calling my name in the early hours, and no black dogs leaping at me out of the wall. If this is sanity, I think I’ll give it a miss.

But the twilights have livened up a little. The bats are on the wing again and there are lots of little voles and wood mice scurrying around my garden now that there are no cats living next door. I wonder where the owls are.

And I’m watching lots of DVDs when it’s too dark to work in the garden. Last night I watched a film called My Life Without Me. It was quite the bundle of laughs and a good advert for trailer park living and making a list of things to say to people after you’re dead.