Maybe it has something to do with the strange – and strangely memorable – dreams I had last night. There was the unfamiliar man in my house studying my blog posts from the year dot and deciding whether to give me a pass mark. And there was the crowded little corner shop full of boxes and people, all getting in the way while I was becoming concerned because it was nearly closing time and there was something I needed urgently. I remember the wall behind the counter being un-plastered and painted a dingy blue, and the door in the same wall being open and giving a view of a woman gardening. The narrow street to the side of the shop was blocked by a badly parked car and other impediments, and that made me angry. And then, finally, I was standing at the bottom of my garden in the Shire when a car slowed and the Lady B smiled and waved at me, but she was so utterly changed as to be almost unrecognisable. It seems my state of mind is finally manifesting in pictures.
But I still can’t access the deep and meaningful message, so there’s nothing else to say on the matter.
* * *
I might just mention that I met Buffy’s new boyfriend tonight. He’s big and beefy and utterly boring. Mel did tell me that season four is not the best of them.
And I think we might have an outbreak of avian flu among the wood pigeon population because I keep finding dead ones that look otherwise unharmed. It’s made me more tolerant of wood pigeons.
Tonight I watched half of Ridley Scott’s Prometheus, and so far it appears to be effectively a remake of Alien. They don’t tell you that on the CD case.
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