Wishing

I seem to be stuck somewhere in Rachmaninoff's piano concerto no. 2... there's a sombre grandeur behind everything. I need to laugh.

Nor is it helped by my envy. Yes, envy. I am away from home at the same time as a fascinating walk is on, displaying Machen's 'Grey Heart' of London, plus a summer 'fete worse than death,' on that same weekend. But these are little things, easily made up for. I miss the Grey Heart and party but I will see Devon and a very dear person who will be pleased to see me - and she is 90, so I don't regret any moments we can share.

Nothing,however, can make me feel philosophical about the Arctic Circle.

Some random friended me on facebook. I knew nothing about her, but, eh, she seemed interested in fairies so I accepted her. Since then, she has posted up all sorts of stunning vistas of somewhere in the Arctic circle, and talks about the fey there all the time. How does she live there? What does she do? Where does the money come from? I really do not have the face to ask such questions. All I do is mooch over pictures of sunrises on lakes and grass.

I am aware that among certain cultures, aspects of fairy legend are taken extremely seriously. She doesn't really say much except how pretty it is. But it just makes me want to go to the top of the world and see what there is to see. I appreciate that this might be a fanciful desire given that I found yesterday in South London a bit parky. But still... WISHHHH.