The view from here is somewhat limited even yet. The Lurgi hangs around leaving a fog on the mind as well as a cloud in the chest. The result leaves me sitting indoors as the idea of trudging around in the late sunshine does not appeal, the camera is somewhat disappointed with this. Three times I have found the camera looking mournfully out the window desperate to eye up the world. I know how it feels. Instead my dim mind suffers the papers lack of intellect, the older radio programmes that I have searched out, and finishing off the books that litter the place. Quite how several can be sitting half read and forgotten always amazes me, especially as I cannot remember beginning the things in the first place. Too often I put the book down and take months to get back to it, even if it is a good one.
So like the camera I sit here moping, my eyes scanning the scudding clouds crossing the late September blue sky, only to discover today is October! Who stole the time? Only the other day I watched the trees budding and small green leaves appearing. Has someone fiddled time somewhere? Anyway the trees opposite have already began the shedding of rusted leaves, one while offering a dazzling display of bright red berries for the birds delight. The season of 'Mists and mellow fruitfulness,' sounds romantic but ignores the chill blended in the wind, a hearkening of approaching winter. Those who venture out reflect the dubious nature of the seasons. Young men wander abroad in tee shirts emblazoned with 'witty' phrases, multi-coloured shorts, reaching beyond the knees, all the while carrying water bottle to make them look 'cool.' More 'mature' people wear a jacket as they have been caught out by British weather far too often for their liking. Surely the brown edged leaves lying across the pavements indicate to some that summer is over? A bright sun does not indicate warmth, just ask any passing Eskimo. The dark misty mornings keep the Blackbirds asleep till well after five these days. A silence broods over the land early in the dark morning, enhanced by the council switching the street lights off to save money. (They have not cut the leading men's salaries however. The silence is broken only by a raucous coughing, from me, which I think gave the birds their wake up call. Soon they were all off, barking out (Can birds bark?) their warning to other birds and claiming their patch, a claim that will be heartily defended as the cold weather leaves feathers ruffled in the search for nourishment.
As I write the light begins to fade, indoors darkens sufficiently to demand a light is used, the sky loses its brightness while trying to decide whether it will end with a pink glow or a damp squib. Once more we enter the long nights which herald the commercial escapades of Halloween and Christmas after that. Once again catalogues begin to fall through the door, their bargains thumping onto the floor and lying their unwanted. The world is once again forgetting why they exist and follows the crowds into Argos, Tesco and local shopping malls. Our reason to exist is lost among the urgency to obtain, to satisfy others or ourselves, to forget real life. Unless of course the reader is a 'benefits scrounger,' (@'Daily Mail') and has nothing to spend on fripperies yet again, not that the 'Daily Mail' reader will accept that.
The reader may by this time have noticed I ramble, I blame the cough mixture, the whisky, the tired mind, the Lurgi! In truth, it is just me, nothing else, ho hum.......