Great fun last night when a fly unexpectedly surfaced in the flat and Lord H attempted to tackle it with a spanner. Which was all he had in his hand at the time (well, the saga of the unforthcoming radiators continues apace …). Seemed a little overkill to me but hey we got the beast in the end, aha. That showed it.

Anyway, talking of peace and love to all living things (ho ho), here’s this morning’s meditation poem:

Meditation 9

Carry nothing with you
when you go.

Let the air drift round you
untrammelled

and do not take
what you cannot restore.

When you return
shake free

even the dust
that clogs your feet

and breathe.


At work, I am now neck-deep (possibly higher) in the rejigging of the personal tutors’ handbook ...


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Am feeling strangely inspired (it can’t last, obviously …) this week, so I actually wrote my first ever horror short story yesterday. Well, subtle horror, but horror nonetheless. No idea what I’m going to do with it, but hey at least it’s there. Lurking. And, talking of writing, here’s this morning’s bible poem:

Meditation 8

Fasten my robe
with pomegranates,
blue, purple, red.

Listen.

Place next to them
the golden bells
that sing of heaven.

Listen

So let me taste and hear
the coming salvation.

Listen.


Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the hot water is working again and Lord H and I both managed baths (hurrah!) though the heating is rather dodgy ...


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Still chilly round these parts, Carruthers, as the boiler has decided to give up the ghost entirely. Please send blankets and soup – we may not last long otherwise … Last night we went to sleep with the help of two hot water-bottles, the electric heater, extra blankets and a dressing-gown. Just like the war years. So I’m told. Not only that but one of the smoke alarms chose 3am to start its intermittent beeping as a low battery alert. Quite addictive after a while. However neither of us could stomach the thought of actually getting out of bed to investigate, so we just grinned and bore it. The bulldog spirit remains undaunted, you know. Bizarrely, this morning the beeping has stopped so we’re still unsure which alarm needs feeding, dammit ...


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Typical. The ruddy boiler waits till the coldest day of the ruddy year and then decides it's not working. Dammit. Ruddy cold in these parts therefore, Carruthers. Though it would, I think, be better if the boiler didn't on occasions decide that it could light up and give us a little lukewarm heat and water as we rush to make the most of its generosity. Which unfortunately doesn't last long, I am typing this in fingerless gloves and a scarf. Alongside my other customary fashion items, naturally ...


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Lord H and I have spent a glorious day exploring the walks of Pulborough and also visiting Pulborough Brooks. We both managed to hold up under our various infirmities - me and my shoulder, and poor Lord H and his hand which he unfortunately gashed whilst washing up at work yesterday. It's a nasty wound for sure, though not very deep. Luckily we've got enough dressings and bandages to last till Monday when I can restock. Lordy, but we're lucky to be still walking, you know. Mind you, we had a bit of technical difficulty with Lord H's muffler - every time he lifted his binoculars to his eyes, he caught the scarf as well so ended up just staring at darkness. Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a birdwatcher are many and varied indeed. Once I'd stopped laughing, I did help him tuck it inside the fleece which meant it was out of harm's way - thus gaining valuable Wife Points which I will probably need to cash in later ...


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Have played my first round of golf with Marian since my shoulder disaster (I think I must now always hear that word in my head a la Craig Revel Horwood - disarrrster, dahlings, disarrrster ...) and it hasn't really gone too badly. Well, apart from the score of course. Neither of us were playing at our best but, hey, at least we got round relatively intact. I have to admit that my shoulder was aching a little before we started, but I took it as gently as possible and halfway through it actually appeared to be more mobile. Mind you, it's back to the same ache level now, so I'm not sure what that signifies. Best not lift any heavy loads this weekend then ...


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I must say that I thought last night's first episode of "The Devil's Whore" was a real class act - utterly gripping, layered, human and deep. Which is saying something indeed for the usual run of television these days. If you didn't manage to catch it, get yourself in front of the TV next Wednesday night at 9pm and enjoy. Well, that is, unless they change the schedules of course. If the next three episodes maintain the standards of this first one (even though Lord H would have preferred more on the battles, naturally ...), then I think we may have this year's drama winner on our hands.

It also struck me that, as a refreshing change from our celebrity and appearance-obsessed society, it was lovely to see that the most wisdom, dignity and simple humanity came from the plain-looking folk whom everyone mocked (aka the Puritans and Levellers), rather than the posh, pretty folk everyone was bowing to (aka the Royals, the gentry and their ilk). A lesson surely also to be learnt in the recent Strictly debacle, if I'm not much mistaken ...


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Ye gods and little fishes, I’ve actually managed to get both drafts of the minutes out which were cluttering up my desk earlier in the week. Double hurrahs and put out the bunting. Joy abounds indeed. Lucky Joy. However, it’s rather shortlived as I’m now faced with a massive annual reporting project. Dammit. Ah well, best see if I can make sense of it one way or the other and maybe it’ll all become clear by the end of the day. Hey ho. Don’t wait up ...


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I don’t think I remembered anything about yesterday’s Bible readings – it was as if any sense had been sucked from my head by a mental hoover. A common occurrence really. Which caused me to write this:

Meditation 2

Black marks on snow
signify nothing; the electrical
link from the word
to the brain

is missing today. Tell me:
when does meaning start?

...

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Am utterly suffused by Monday gloom today, groan. Maybe it’s the time of year. Or (more likely) probably just me. Double groaning. Am so bad today in fact that I am barely able to communicate with the outside world at all and have taken to opening my eyes wide and sighing as a means of conveying the angst. Words being a concept entirely beyond me at the moment. Somebody pass me the smelling salts. The Quiet Life pills and the Rescue Remedy just ain’t working, dammit ...


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