Good Evening Dear Friends
Although it's normally a case of "Whan that aprill with his shoures soote the droghte of march hath perced to the roote" in these parts we've had to wait a tad longer for the first drip drops of sustenance for the garden; as I write it is pleuting down (forgive the Franglais!) and giving my newly acquired estate the dousing it so desperately needs . . . a number of people have remarked how much they enjoy lying in bed listening to the rain; it is somehow rather soothing isn't it? I was almost tempted to say therapeutic but decided that I had written the word so often in the past few weeks that both it and I would benefit from the rest! So the week ends and the weekend's looming like a cumulonimbus on the horizon of our expectations; will it be wellies or shall it be sandals? I do find it reassuring that we talk about the weather so much in this silly little island of ours, don't you? If this precipitation continues tomorrow there will doubtless be mutterings of " So that was Summer then!" O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
As always, this time of year is one of beginnings and endings; saying goodbye and hello in the same breath quite often, as the wheel continues to turn and we poor mortals upon it . . . I'm currently in the process of finishing off the last four years of learning whilst planning the next 12 months of deeper and more esoteric education and in between all the paperwork and portfolios there are also people who I've come to know incredibly well; some I know I'll see again as they are part of my fabric as it were but others - well, it's debatable . . . we put a lot of energy into endings in counselling and I must admit it's something I need to work on; it's not that I find it hard to say goodbye but I sometimes feel as though my farewells are not as valuable as those of other people - those who have known each other longer for example . . . anyhow, the next couple of weeks will tell how successful I am at overcoming my reticence!
Tomorrow Sister Cate and I are meeting earlyish for a cup of the green stuff courtesy of those Barista Boys and Girls @ Nero - who are always a joy to natter with - then a dash around Sparks and Mensa for cheesy comestibles and ideas for a feast for visiting royalty later in the day before a trek across the valley floor to the Stately Pile of the Old Duchess for our weekly audience . . . Sunday is Grand Prix time again I believe - my one concession to sport - and time for a spot of Turkish delight for Lewis one hopes, but nothing is certain especially with old Mr Cobbler lurking in fourth place? I shall have to ask the elves to ties his shoelaces together . . .
And with thoughts of fairy tales loitering in my head I realise that it's past pumpkin time and that I should probably be thinking about tucking myself in for the night; I'm conscious that tonight's offering seems somewhat fractured and I'm not altogether sure why I decided to write it . . . maybe it was the patter of the rain on the windows which is the only sound to stir the silence here? Who can say? Nevertheless I think we shall call it done and retire from the study with good grace ( a lovely girl) to the domain of dreams awaiting next door . . . I think we are all next door to our dreams, don't you?
So with more questions than are strictly necessary I shall wish you all the sweetest of sleeps, positively awash with love and kisses of an unimaginable magnitude
'til next time
Be Seeing You !
* with credit to the lovely Kate