Just sitting here, bleebling to myself in a corner, because, frankly, trying to pass comment on the contemporary scene is like watching a car crash in slow motion over and over again.
Monday 1 February 2010
Done
Right, folks. I'm back from my big deadline, and feeling temporarily dead, as it happens.
Still, the blog will now recommence, and probably more than on Sundays (promises, promises).
But, for tonight, I simply wish you a good evening. It was for me!
An international man of mystery ... Best summed up as follows:
"Innocent Smith had clambered
out of his own attic window, and roaring again and again, "Beacon House!", whirled round his head a huge log or trunk from the wood fire below,
of which the river of crimson flame and purple smoke drove out on
the deafening air.
He was evident enough to have been seen from three counties;
but when the wind died down, and the party, at the top of
their evening's merriment, looked again for Mary and for him,
they were not to be found."
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