Sit Still, and Hear the Last of Our Sea-Sorrow . . .

Good Afternoon Dear Friends . . .

And one which finds the Good Ship Yours Truly  becalmed and still in the doldrums, somewhat adrift in the latitudes of lassitude, not quite himself, as it were . . . whether it's because of the weather or just a general malaise brought about by circumstances, I know not but I shall be rather glad when the wind rises and I can navigate myself out of these depths and steer a clearer course for horizons new and uncharted . . .

The light is very flat today; on days such as this when I used to do more photography than I do, it was always difficult to make anything look even remotely decent; the light is so diffused by cloud that shadows disappear and the world takes on an almost two-dimensional appearance . . . having said that I wonder just how much our actual view of the world is influenced by our emotional viewpoint? Quite a lot I would have thought . . . and peeping out of the study window I must say that the light matches my mood and vice versa!

I thought perhaps that spending a couple of hours in the company of those good BBC people with their coverage of the Hungarian Grand Prix would lift my ennui but it seems not; although it was quite an exciting race I must confess I did have trouble keeping my eyes open . . . quite shocking!  Even Sal - who is currently stretched out on the sofa in the study, making her own hirsute contribution to the otherwise fetching cream and green combination - seems rather tired of it all; perhaps she is just reflecting my aura, sensitive soul that she is, and having gauged my mood has decided that sleep is the best policy - she could be right!

But fie! What place have such humours in this world? Are we not made of stouter stuff? We are responsible for the warp and weft on which our pattern is embroidered; and that pattern too, is drawn by our own hands . . . if I must stand on the bridge and blow my breath into the sails I shall;  Let us cast those horses of doubt and uncertainty overboard, lighten our draught and fathom a course towards a sunlit shore where we shall find light, shade and above all happiness . . .

Hmmm . . . went all Shakespearian mixed metaphors there, sorry about that! It's sort of like the literary equivalent of a strong boot up the bum and probably just what I need . . . that and a nice cup of tea!  Yesterday Sister Cate and I  popped over to Cedar Farm near Mawdesley and I came away with a rather sweet coaster as

depicted here; I do find it to be the case, especially when it goes hand-in-hand with a phone call from a dear friend who is always guaranteed to lighten my gloominesses and put a fatuous grin on my fat face once more! It certainly seems to be the case that no man is an island; no matter how we yearn and long for solitude and independence, the essential essence of human contact is the oil that perfumes the life of this particular hermit at least!

And with that last blast this particular Prospero will retire to the kitchen and rustle up something approaching food; it's been a peculiar posting, hasn't it? I hope it hasn't darkened your day too much and that the forthcoming week finds you weak with happiness and limp with love

'til next time

Be Seeing You !

ॐ