I have nothing for you. NOTHING.
The weather has come in again. There is filthy, wet, blizzardy snow, blowing in on a gale. There is wind-chill of the most horrid aspect. No matter how many thermals and waterproofs I apply, I remain cold and slightly damp.
There was a lot of work today, both mental and physical. I actually met some delightful and fascinating people, and I’d love to tell you about that but my fingers are too crabbed and my brain too pummelled. Every atom in my body is yelling STOP NOW.
I really must work on my stamina.
Anyway, that is a poor way to tell you there is no blog today.
I hate there being no blog. It makes me feel as if I have failed. The Dear Readers kindly come, and give their time and attention, and then there are days like this when I give nothing back. What kind of bargain is that?
Also, I really like getting comments and hearing from all of you, all over the world, but that can’t happen if there is nothing to comment upon.
You know how I’m always banging on about how every day can’t be Doris Day? Well, this day is now officially Doris DON’T. I have a daily ration of energy and good cheer, and I used it all up. I am now going to sit in a corner and eat chocolate. It’s a cliché, but I don’t care. I am going to mutter under my breath like Mutley and dream furiously of spring. There’s only so much nonsense one girl can take, and I’ve taken it. I’d just like to remember what it’s like not to walk around all day in slightly damp socks.
Up at HorseBack this morning; you can see that even their magnificent view is defeated by dreich:
This, this, is what I dream of:
This is what I remember does still exist, beneath the snow:
Right. Now I’m going to take some iron tonic and give myself a stiff talking-to.