After a really good night when I slept happily, Dolly down on the bottom corner of the bed, I brought a mug of steaming coffee here into my study and have spent much of the time since watching the sky. At times there’s been a smear of greasy sunlight over to the south-east but mostly it’s been layer upon layer of cloud, like a truly accomplished water colourist working diligently in his sketchbook.
I can’t stay here much longer, though. My coffee mug is empty, and Dolly is beginning to make “where’s my breakfast, then?” noises out in the kitchen.
And that pesky vacuum cleaner is still perched in the spare bedroom, waiting to be kicked into action.
There’s little to keep me here at my computer today. My head is empty, and I cannot abide reading the news.
Perhaps, rather than turning to political affairs I am more suited to the contemplative approach to old age. Somehow, a warm house, snug clothing, a comfortable bed and a luxurious chair along with a well-stocked food store are more important to me now than the pratings of politicians and commentators. And, when they tell me that the world is going to hell in a hand-basket, what do I do about it?
No, I shall spend my day considering the antics of the squirrels in the trees and the endless play of clouds in the sky. And, intermittently, vacuuming the blasted carpets.
