Saturday morning

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A chilly and damp morning.

I look across to the same roofs I looked at yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, and the day...
Still, I can look out at roofs, so I guess that's something.

 Dreams about canal boats and ladies.

Yesterday I went to a reunion lunch. A good meal and a respite from all that is going on.

Called in a library and started to read a Stephen King short story -
'Autopsy Room Four'. I don't usually read horror stories but I got involved and brought the book home to finish the story. I'll probably take it back today - on the way to to finish off emptying 'my place'. And then... travelling.

I remember reading about a war photographer who travelled  all over the world. The interviewer asked him, 'Where is your home now?' He replied, 'My home is in my head'.
Good place to have your home. 

My finger-nails need cutting - probably toes nails as well, although they don't affect my typing. There's an idea for a project: Learn to type with my feet. But that would be the height of laziness: To learn to type with your feet so you don't need to cut your finger nails.
Of course, eventually - presuming I did learn to type with my feet - I would have the same problem as I had with my finger nails. So best deal with the current situation.

Well, Anna, it is 8.05 am, and I must gird my loins. They need a good girding.

Ah, as if on cue, the sun breaks through the cloud.

Until we meet

George