My unhurried lethargic day has nonetheless survived descending to listlessness, that passive state of indolence that borders on being disinterested. Partly I have been rendered impassive as I awaited the results of two important exchanges which arose late yesterday afternoon. My anxieties have since been answered. I won’t say that I’ve hit Middle C but the polar extensions are most certainly reduced and relaxed. Compared to the attention I devote to the warm, painful steel plate that is now my left knee, almost everything else is of moderately less persuasion. In terms of interest the enduring focus is now the nature and status of our precipitously altered winter travel plans.  Even readjusting to the committed amendments we’ve chosen requires a certain psychological medication for its complete embrace.  For the record – and to quell any misapprehension of dissatisfaction – I am thrilled with what’s been booked and what’s ahead. I’m just still spinning from the fortuity and body of the recasting.

A murky, misty day such as today successfully achieves the desired results of idle accumulation and recognition. What, I say, could be more improving than the regard of the hazy meadow and the weary motion of the river. In the background the critical realities of human behaviour and resources continue to churn uninhibited by wish, want or reason.  From this blunt observation there is but one sequel; namely, we take what we are given and do the best with it we can. Frankly there is little if any vitality which springs from the confession of either misadventure or serendipity. Either way we haven’t any choice.