Arriving Early at the Underworld.

We had the first snow of the winter today and tomorrow is my birthday. The significance of the coincidence is simply that it’s most unusual to have snow in the UK before my birthday. The last time it happened it was followed by a miserable 5-month winter and most of my bat friends failed to reappear the following spring.

The sub-zero wind continues to bellow around my house and find access by unidentified means, which isn’t conducive to a comfortable evening. I decline to don a coat just to leave the confines of my office because such an action would merely accentuate the psychological impact of living in a fridge.

The supplementary heating I have in said office is struggling to make much of an impression on the temperature tonight. Unfortunately, it still costs the same amount to run.

The priestess has written me a number of deep and meaningful emails recently, but my replies have been taciturn and a little sharp in consequence of a sombre mood. It occurred to me that she might now be reluctant to write to me at all, and so I considered initiating an email back to say: ‘Please don’t be reluctant to write to me if such be your wish. Though my replies be disappointingly brief, I do still enjoy receiving them and take full note of everything you say.’ But it seemed like begging, so I didn’t.

OK, now I’ve got that off my chest I can return to the business of waiting patiently for bed time. I’m constrained from going to bed when the fancy takes me because I have a panel heater in the bedroom which is timed to work between 1am and 8am when the electricity is cheaper. I’m not a rich man, you see, and if the only point of being rich is to have a warm house in the winter, I see little reason to aspire to the condition. There isn’t really anything else I want for myself which requires money.