What a shockingly awful day!
The hatstand in the hall creaks under the weight of macs and sou'westers and the elephant's foot is full to umbrella capacity and hobbled by swarms of galoshes . . . through the library window, which is tearfully streaked, the forever gray landscape of soft focused wetness stretches forbiddingly to an invisible and unreachable horizon. It is exactly the kind of day when to venture forth is to invite misery and the sheer horror of a lonesome raindrop, icy cold and sharp, tracking down your spine and removing your backbone.
But venture forth I must! I have duties of some sadness to perform this morning, the details of which I shall spare you, and then this afternoon I am off across the sodden countryside to the caverns of knowledge . . . it will be a long damp day and one which The Famous Sally Dog is greeting with both resignation and her own innate brand of grumpiness; deprived of a long walk, her day will be a lonely one and with little stimulation - it is on days like these that she misses opposable thumbs for their usefulness in switching on the TV or opening a packet of dog biscuits - that sort of thing.
I have an evening of damp clothes and hissing radiators to look forward to; the building I attend is not unlike my old school - except that I actually feel welcome here - and was, at some point I feel, a Grammar school too . . . the sweep of the stairs and the plumbing bring back none-too-fond memories of one of the darkest periods in my existence so far . . . however, the people are wonderful and I know I will be greeted and held in love until I lepp up the stairs at the station to catch my train late into the dark and stormy night.
Tomorrow is IT day when all kinds of communication revolutions are taking place, the outcome of which should ensure I have a bit of a grin on my chops at least some of the time but, as usual, it all depends on lots of seemingly disparate events occurring with some degree of simultaneity - not unlike the old days of putting on shows and events which I enjoyed and, as I can admit with an unflattering display of immodesty, I was rather good at! So by tomorrow eve all should be replaced and the peace restored in the BPS just in time for me not to be here all day Friday as it's Bury day again . . .
It is scary how quickly events fill ones life; as I remarked in Monday's post, at 8 am that day I was up to Friday 6pm . . . the question is what happens to the now? When do we have time to live life in the present moment, not questioning the past or worrying about the future? Well, actually I normally don't have that much of an issue with living in the moment - otherwise I'm not sure I would take on as much as I do! - but it does seem that in the past week or so things have begin to get a little hectic . . . I must resist the urge to panic or over-plan; one day at a time as we have few enough to begin with!
But what an awful host I am! You've been here all this while and I haven't offered you any hospitality whatsoever . . . Oh! You have? Ah well that's okay then, as long as you . . . yes, yes, you know where it is, just along the . . . that's right . . . while you're gone I'll make sure your hat and coats are warmed ready for your departure. It has been so lovely seeing you and so very nice of you to visit on such a dreadful day . . . mind you, you do seem to carry the sunshine with you and always manage to warm up both the library and my life with your smile!
'til next time
Be Seeing You !