Return

All the way back up the long, long prairies of concrete that are the M6 and the M74 I was thinking of the perfect First Blog Back. It would be philosophical, mildly comical, thought-provoking (of course) - a glorious, out-from-behind-the-red-velvet-curtain flourish of a return. I seem to remember it was going to involve musings on grief, friendship, love and the very nature of happiness. There was going to be a slightly unexpected picture of the dogs looking puzzled in the car park of the Westfield, just to keep you all on your toes.

But the thing is that after driving all day yesterday, on about four hours' sleep, hopped up on five double espressos, half a pack of pro-plus and a couple of Solpadeine, today I am so tired that I do not know what my name is. My brain has fallen into a primal fugue state, and all I can do is gaze out of the window like a fool and think that even though the sky is the colour of dirty washing up water, it is still my heavenly Scottish sky and I could not be more glad to see it. Everything is very green and still here, my garden is bosky and overgrown, the lawn all shaggy like one of those Hollywood actors who grows questionable facial hair 'for a part'. I have missed the lilac, but my peonies are blooming like gangbusters, in the deepest most improbable scarlet you ever saw. All I can do is contemplate these small, welcoming things, and sit very, very still until I can think serious thoughts again. Then you will get a proper, worth every moment of your time sort of post. Until then, I just wanted to say hello, and that I missed all my wonderful readers, and that I am home safely, and normal service will be resumed very shortly.