The white hue of snow litters the landscape and a tinge of gloom covers my day. It is not a day for going out. You may recall how fond I am of finding a country pub on a Sunday afternoon but not today.
Sitting in the warm I have partially read the paper, Handel's Orlando plays and the heating is holding out. It feels a strange day long removed from when I was last at work but not long until I must return there. I have my car back although it cost rather more than I'd anticipated. But nowhere to go on this cold day.
Both mornings this weekend have started with dreams of mum. I do not know why but as was so often the case in life it left me feeling edgy and anxious. At times she exuded that feeling. Not least from her own fears that were so prominent in the latter stages of her life. More than five years have gone since she went so suddenly. We are all that bit older and trying to keep pace with the marching excess of time.
Another year is nearly over. These are the first snows in these parts for a few years. What has this past year brought me? Hard to say really but I'm not in the desolate place of two years ago when my mind went into meltdown and so many of my friends died. In the week was the anniversary of Sue's death. In another week or so we will remember Izzi. I miss them both. In that short time of the academic year 2015-2016 I used up a fifth of my holiday on funerals. I'm pleased to say I've avoided them since.
We are coming to the end of the game season. Tonight I will once again roast a pheasant to celebrate the marvels of seasons and nature. I will be alone but that is okay. Today I quite like my own company now the initial fear has subsided.
I will work tomorrow then sing on Tuesday. Each brings its own doubts but I will survive; I always do. Take care out there in the snow and ice and I'll see you all soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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