Yesterday was a big day for me: I had more visitors to the blog than ever before! Being an innocent in this business, it is always exciting to see if anyone has read – let alone liked or commented on – anything I’ve put out there and I’m very pleased to get any response at all. This little spaniel writes for his own delight, in order to get ideas straight inside his little blue and white head; if other readers find my musings worth a look, that’s just wonderful; especially wondrous to see are the various flags of my readers’ homelands and wondering just what someone in Brazil or Slovenia has made of my life in this isolated corner of England. Whether it’s a shipwrecked squid or a sun fallen from the skies, questions of life and death abound, crossing continents and making some sort of universal sense. Every day is different; expressing every thought a challenge, wondering whether the thread will lead me from the labyrinth or face to face with the Minotaur itself.
Those who know about these things predict a really massive storm later this weekend, though it may not strike our bit of the country too hard. Right now it is calm and bright, but that means nothing as clouds transform themselves in a trice and darkness deepens inexplicably, like the descent of melancholy in the middle of a song. Upstairs there is still an atmosphere of flux, and I cling in comfort to those who need me as a buoy in the sea of mutability; more than sea creatures are life’s flotsam and jetsam, it would seem. There is an extra hour tonight – which thrills me as I love my Boggis Bed – but as yet I cannot understand quite why this should be so. More questions I would ask:
1 Why do some people that we meet find it so hard to smile and say hello?
2 When you see people walking without a dog, where has it gone?
3 Why am I sure that everything will be all right?