Friday November 19, 2004
Some days you end up feeling like they’d belonged to someone else, as if you were a spectator on the sidelines only. And not a very interested spectator at that.
I think it’s a result of having nothing of the day to grab hold of, not even a tail of thought or an observation to take me for a ride.
It started out fine enough. I was up at a reasonable hour, did a little writing as the light gathered strength enough to show a day which was clearly cold and likely to be sunny. The fish pond was quite frozen over so I went out and, ever so gently, made a breathing hole. The ice was crystal clear and I could see all the fish down in the deepest part, swimming slowly so as to stay safely in one place. At least the local heron will not be able to get at them while they have a glassy window as a ceiling.
As I walked back to the house I heard a fluttering as of a host of feathery wings and, sure enough, when I got back to the living room I saw a crowd of wild birds sipping at the exposed water.
And that was my last observation of the intensity of the day. After that it faded away, quiet, unremarkable and without much of interest.
Tomorrow I have to pop into Spilsby to post the first of Graham’s two Palm PDAs, which sold at a good price this evening. That should have excited me. It didn’t. Perhaps I’ll do better tomorrow.
It seems I wasn’t of a mind to be excited today.