Posted by Tania Kindersley.
So sorry. Feeling rather seedy. That annoying thing where one is not properly sick but just scratchy and aching and generally off colour. If I were a horse, you would say I was not 'well in myself', a great equine expression that expresses the mystery of horses.
It may be a side order of fret. After all that rush and scramble, the book has not yet been read. This is quite par for the course; it is what happens. I am getting on with other projects. My friend The Photographer and I are pitching like all get out. There is plenty of news to occupy my mind. There is genuine tragedy in Turkey. My own small worries are, properly, small.
I throw the ball for The Pigeon. She is highly delighted. There were gales last night, which came and stripped almost all the scarlet leaves from the rowan trees, so they now look bare, and rather shy. Yet the shrub roses and the hydrangeas still flower; there are nodding violas, and even a brave little lavender.
I think: come on, come on. Sharpen up and concentrate. I always say that to myself. Some days I am better at it than others.
Pictures of the day:
Hill, hiding in the dreich: