I intended to make a post in praise of Virginia Woolf's stream of consciousness writing. And then I intended to make a post about the problem of being without the internet for seven days, written in the style of Virginia Woolf (to my eternal shame.) And then I couldn't be bothered because the hour was getting late (which led me to make a connection with Bob Dylan's song All Along the Watchtower, and now I can't get the phrase -- or the song -- out of my head.)
Instead I'll just mention that I had two splendid dog fixes today, both with Cocker Spaniels. I'm particularly fond of Cocker Spaniels, and they seem to like me. All except Honourable Sister's one time companion Ivy, that is. She always barked at me, which was unusual and perplexing in equal measure.
And that brings me neatly to the main point of the post -- to repeat with some conviction that if I lived in a world populated exclusively by little girls who want to talk to me about the meaning of life, attractive women who like the way I think, and friendly dogs who want to be my very best friend for ever and ever, I think I would be content. It would, however, cause me to be terribly scared of dying and going to heaven where angels would no doubt patronise me. Hateful.
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