Dull.

Such a dull day today. How am I supposed to make blog posts when there’s nothing to excite my delight or disgust, to massage my ego or set me musing on the state of being?

I’ve decided that Ashbourne is a dull town. There’s a smug and settled air about most of the people one sees in Ashbourne, unlike Uttoxeter where there is a regular drip of people to observe who look lonely, dishevelled or broken in some way. Maybe I exaggerate. Maybe I do. Today I went to Ashbourne and saw nothing of interest.

I haven’t mentioned the Lady B for a while, have I? Well now I have, so that’s all right. (I still sometimes hear her ghost whispering from somewhere over the horizon, you know. Never the rainbow, heaven forbid.)

And now I have the latest missive from the priestess to read. Will it be long or short? Will it say anything of interest or will it be the sort of trivia which makes any attempt at meaningful response difficult? No doubt I’ll find out later when I have a drink to hand. I like myself and trust my responses more when I have a drink to hand. It’s why I sometimes think that I should drink a lot more than I do. Sobriety and self-control can be such a curse at times. I never know whether to blame myself or my upbringing for being so generally steady. 

Dullness is definitely in the ascendant.