I haven’t written a blog for quite a while. I am fairly restricted in the things I can mention, some things are private, after all, and don’t belong just to me.
And there are some things that you just don’t talk about publicly because you will be letting the side down; airing your linen, so to speak.
Trouble is; a private matter has been occupying all my waking and some of my sleeping thoughts.
It is this common theme: where on earth is the next shilling coming from?
Christmas is now only the ‘C-word’. It may well not happen at all this year and as all the children have flown the nest, that doesn’t matter too much. I have no aerial for the TV so I’m not being assaulted by the C-word advertising this year. This is a good thing. It is much less stressful.
The Gypsyman has been ill since the beginning of summer and is only now just getting back on his feet… just as the work is dying off. We have done what we can to keep going, but we have not been able to store any nuts, like good squirrels should, for the winter.
As the temperature outside drops, we comfort ourselves that we have our love to keep us warm. And we say things like ‘Everyone’s having it hard at the moment, my Bab. Not just us.’
When one of us is down, the other needs must be up or we will sink.
Self-pity, after all, is the death of hope.
We are not alone, after all and we have each other…. more than some do.