Waking

[smokingboot]

A beautiful gun grey morning, and remarkably peaceful. Yesterday was a day for the Wild Hunt, the weather so stormblown I could almost feel the People of the Air gathering, harsh and crazed about something. It’s a powerful enough feeling at night and one that I love, but it felt most odd at noon, on a day of permanent twilight.

This morning, there’s no howling to be heard, no rain yet, and every cloud in the sky is marching resolutely northwards. That’s right my friends, go and bother Scotland for a while, or play on the peaks. It’s not that I don’t like you; I merely fear for our guttering as the Season to be Jolly Broke approaches.

I spent yesterday in my dressing gown, happily exhausted. Today I must at least put some clothes on. So much to do, I just don’t know how I keep up under all this pressure!