This weekend we are forecast to have an "arctic cold snap," which means it will be around 3 degrees. In contrast, my love is safely arrived in Dubai (where he is visiting his parents).
He and two of his brothers now stand like ivory Scottish beacons in the Arab desert. He would have seen the massive fireworks that were even reported in the Metro newspaper this morning. And the Metro never reports anything of interest.
I am feeling listless and a bit sad. Withdrawn, I suppose. Thoughtful, but not necessarily creative. My Mondays and Tuesday are usually JP time. It is built into the rhythm of my week, and with the rhythm disturbed, I don't feel myself.
I have regressed to drinking warm milk with honey. It is even more soothing that I remember. This after basically spending the entire evening willing myself not to go out to the corner store to buy chocolate. If I had bread I would be gulping it down, slathered with lemon curd. But skimmed milk with honey it is. According to my scale I have lost one pound. Only 49 more to go...
There were so many things I was going to write about. The fox I saw on the walk home from work. Today's visit from the fire brigade after we could not place the growing burning scent that was lingering in the shop (dust in the ventilation - the heating system has been turned way down and all has been pronounced well). Entertaining tales of my social anxieties. The building of the Christmas market and the lights going up around the city. The way show's producer calls me "Miss Pod" or just "Podcast" whenever we pass in the hall, which makes me surprisingly happy.
But mostly I miss my honey.
The hill at Snurrom
10 hours ago