Time for Tea.

Greetings to you who are left in my blogland. After 3 record breaking months of viewing, everyone seems to have disappeared. It is very strange that when the shit hits the fan as it did for me a few months ago, viewing figures increase enormously. Now I'm well people have vanished. My fellow blogger Izzi finds the same thing. But never mind.

It has been a quiet dull day after a not so good week. I came home yesterday exhausted, disillusioned and incredibly flat. Not depressed but utterly uninspired. The days of rain continue although I am pleased some cricket is being played at Edgebaston after 2 days of washout.

I have turned to domestic things today, shopping, washing, and of course cooking. When my mum was alive we differed radically in how we cooked. She could never work out why I didn't measure anything. She always went to the letter. She was also of  the generation that thought we would all die unless everything was cooked to death. The last Christmas I spent with her in 2010 she cooked a crown of turkey for 11 hours-not my way. She would have shivers at how rare my beef is. But that is how I like it.

She was very good at some things. For a woman who hated mince she did a mean Shepherd's pie. It is that that made me think of her today. I have spent the last 40 minutes or so constructing a Shepherd's pie. It will cook for another 40 minutes later but I can guarantee it won't be as good as hers.

Tonight I still plan to replenish with precious sleep. This week was marred by the deaths of 2 friends. It will lead me back to Kent the week after next. I have seen way too many people die for a 42 year old. But that is the darkest side of the dark world of madness on whose boundaries I still tarry. I will never be free from that.

For now though I rest and drink Darjeeling tea-another of those curious English habits. It is a very good one.

I Heard a Voice.