Weather unremittingly foul all day. Why does it get to me these days? Just awful. These dark nights and sogginess. Even dog walk a misery and no chance of getting out on a horse. Only crack of light in entire day was starting Anne Glenconners Lady in waiting memoir on talking books. Read charmingly and au naturel by the Grande Dame herself, her descriptions of Holkham and North Norfolk sent me back in my mind to gorgeous summer days there in the dunes looking out over the expanse of sea to the wind turbines. Meanwhile a succession of Round Robins have come in with the Christmas Cards. So insufferably smug. Shut up! Shut the bloody hell up! I want to say. Maybe I’ll write one, one of these days what would I put I wonder?
Hmmm. “I began this year utterly miserable” it would commence, then ” I ended this year utterly, even more utterly miserable”
The truth is out.
The River Files 