All But One

So what becomes of you my love
When they have finally stripped you of
The handbags and the gladrags
That your granddad had to sweat so you could buy?

What is a glad-rag, anyway?

So. Here I am. Today, it is officially a week since I have come back, and – I waited until the week was up before I announced it, just to be sure – and yeah, it’s been the longest damn week of my life. Two weeks ago, I was hiking up a hill in Wales, and now I am sitting in a tired old computer chair, sounding like Clint Eastwood just left me on the farm in Iowa. Every so often, I clutch my head and moan a little, and generally act like a mental patient going through medication withdrawal. Which. Is really what it cracks up to be.

Did anyone ever read that short story “All Summer In A Day” by Ray Bradbury?

Nothing. It was sad, that’s all.

On a semi-glad note, I’ve started blogging the days of my trip. I think it does me good to write – anything nowadays, and fiction is coming harder than I thought. I’m not done – only on day 4 of 21. I’m indulging, and it is terribly long winded, but if I finish it, I think it will be the longest coherent thought I’ve ever put down in writing. And that is an absolute good. :)

I hope you are well. Goodnight.