Still Here.

I’m tired. The orcs deprived me of many hours sleep over the last two weeks, and so far I don’t seem to have caught them up yet.

And then there’s the fact of my being a curmudgeonly and somewhat misanthropic recluse. Living alone is all for the best in the best of all possible worlds apart from one thing: everything that needs be done has to be done by yours truly because there’s no other half to share the work. At this time of year, when the garden is running rampant, there aren’t enough hours in the day to avoid falling behind schedule. Work as I will, by 10.15 at night all I’m fit for is to collapse into my computer chair with a hot cup of coffee and watch a DVD. Sad isn’t it? So many posts on so many disparate topics have run through my mind recently, but by the end of the working day my mental capability has fallen into reception-only mode.

But at least the orcs have gone now – the first lot, that is. Two more to go and then maybe what’s left of the summer might be peaceful and relatively untroubled. Until August, of course, when my next cystoscopy is due. The last one resulted in my emergency admission to hospital if you remember. Isn’t life fun?

So, sorry you didn’t get the post about the hay meadows being invaded by a host of golden buttercups, and the fields being awash with yellow oilseed flowers, or the world being white not only with May, but also with an abundance of cow parsley and wild garlic. And then there was the glorious sight of a fresh green landscape being daubed with splashes of rich burgundy, courtesy of the copper beeches which grace the rolling landscape of the Shire and beyond. And the benevolent sun of early summer graced it all from an early summer sky. How lyrical it all might have been if only I could have found the words.

But never mind; at least I haven’t given up yet, just in case anybody out there was wondering. (Is that likely? How would I know?)