I slept very well last night, but I feel ill today. I guess the last few days of activity have caught up with me. Or perhaps I have the love-bug, heh-heh. Silly old fool, Aaron.
The weather has turned again and it looks like sleet outside. A perfect day for being bed bound. I picked up a much read copy of Thomas Hardy's "Far from the madding crowd". I love the opening:
"When Farmer Oak smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they were within an unimportant distance of his ears, his eyes were reduced to chinks, and diverging wrinkles appeared round them, extending upon his countenance like the rays in a rudimentary sketch of the rising sun.
His Christian name was Gabriel, and on working days he was a young man of sound judgment, easy motions, proper dress, and general good character. On Sundays he was a man of misty views, rather given to postponing, and hampered by his best clothes and umbrella: upon the whole, one who felt himself to occupy morally that vast middle space of Laodicean neutrality which lay between the Communion people of the parish and the drunken section, -- that is, he went to church, but yawned privately by the time the con-gegation reached the Nicene creed, and thought of what there would be for dinner when he meant to be listening to the sermon."
I wish I could write like that. "When Aaron smiled, his face was lost in a sea of wrinkles and mirth on which floated two deep pools of sorrow." Hey, that's not bad, if a little fluffy.
Its been very quiet of late in the building. Those binned eviction notices weigh heavily on my mind.
Back to my book methinks. Harry hasn't budged all day. I think his lady friends will have to wait until the weather improves.
