Good Morning Dear Friends!
and a very joyful White Rabbity x 3 Day to you* . . . welcome to February and a fond farewell to two-faced Janus at last - I could be mistaken but I had the feeling that last month consisted of at least 62 days . . . anyhow, a whole new month stretches before us with the promise of unseasonably early Spring flowers alongside lower temperatures to chill our bones though, as I look out of the study window at Myrtle House, sky is is sapphire blue and a lot of light seems to be bouncing around heaven this morning . . . which can only be good!
So what do the forthcoming days hold in store? Ah, if I but knew . . . though I'm fairly sure that I will shortly be, as the dear Mr Ian Anderson sings** " ...on trains, on trains, I seem to spend my life on trains . . ." ; today merely for a miniscule hop to the next halt along the line to look at some buildings that could serve a useful purpose in the coming months - of which more later ! Before that, and following my beautification process which increases in length and decreases in success with each passing day, my self and somewhat less than fragrant flower of dogdom with whom I share my life will be toddling once more around the Victorian Quarter for matutinal micturitions ( her, not me I hasten to add!) and have a quick peep at friends and neighbours . . . whoops! Tempus fugit and all that, I will be late . . . make yourself at home and see you shortly!
Hello again! Well, following a brief canter along the Corridor of Chronos - or a pavane along the Passage of Time if you prefer - I find myself in the thrub of Thursday. Yet another crisp and cold morning beyond the study windows calls me to task as soon I'm off for a most welcome large green tea and, I suspect, a positively colossal slab of cake with Sister Cate in Costa - it's a hard life!
Whilst tootling around the Wigwam I also want to pop in and see the lovely creatures in Waterstones (who can be found in Tweetland under the guise of WaterstonesWN1) as I have a fever upon me to purchase a book; I have read a sample chapter of what appears to be an enchanting publication entitled "The Snow Child" by an unknown-to-me author named Eowyn Ivey who appears to hail from the frozen wastes (or waists, if your shirt's too short!) of North America . . . want to know where? Alaska***
I found the chapter beautifully written and moving; I also experienced albeit vicariously Eowyn's undoubted joy and jubilation at the birth of her book - being somewhat of a scribbler myself I know first hand the frustrations and seemingly interminable delays that occur before publication - my own meagre prize winning epic "The Maelstrom" is still awaiting the light of published day nearly a year later! -and the magnitude of sheer hard work involved in the conception and birth is staggering. If any of you doubters out there are pshawing my words I can only suggest that you try writing the smallest poem or item of prose and see how it feels! Equally, as I tweeted earlier today, I feel I must thank all the writers who, over the many years I've been a reader, have populated my world with their words and images; I feel I must give a special thank you to Charles Dodgeson who surreptitiously sneaked into my consciousness when I was fast approaching five years of age and has refused to leave ever since.
I have almost given up trying to predict when The Maelstrom will appear; along with a host of my other titles, it is also due to be self-published under the auspices of Myrtle House but life seems to have developed a habit of getting in the way . . . maybe an idea would be simply to hand out e-copies to those willing to read them and hope that someone out there likes them? Hmmm . . . I shall ponder, cogitate and inwardly digest!
In the meantime, it is that time again when an insistent wet nose presses against my shapely calf - not sure why there appears to be livestock in the study or why Sal is sniffing it - to inform that I must ablute and walk my hound as time presses once more . . .
So, in the words of the Incredible String Band, who, strangely enough I found myself listening to again this week: "May the long time sunshine calm you, all love surround you and the pure light within you guide your way out!"
'til next time
Be Seeing You !
* I began this epic on Wednesday 1st!
** "Trains" by Ian Anderson from 1983 cd "Walk Into Light"
***To which - according to the rules of humour - you must reply "And what did she answer?