Dreaming.

It must be well known to everyone by now that I dream of the Lady B often, but last night I had the strangest Lady B dream ever. The Lady B wasn’t in it; it was totally dominated by her Dear Mama and Honourable Sister.

We walked in their garden, which had assumed the grandeur of a classic English Country House garden – massive, and replete with walls and fences and trees and a lake. I have no recollection whatsoever of what we talked about, but at least I felt welcome, the significance of which is probably obvious to everybody but me.

Be it known that I miss the Lady B greatly. My walks around the Shire lack sunshine now. And just when I’ve had a haircut for the first time in four months…