Waking dream

[smokingboot]

I have a tendency to these; this year there have been two in specifically the same kind of landscape; England but a sort of brown marshy England, all long reeds and birds. This time it was more frosty, ice spreading across water. A very lonely place, no cars, no pylons, nothing but an old road over a bridge.

Someone said, 'If you are a servant of beauty you cannot be a servant of the people,' or something like that. I understood the sentiment to some extent. The place had geese and swans, and the loveliness was tied up with the desolation of it. I wasn't even sure I was in England, though everything felt like it. Then I saw a horse and trap pass by. When it was gone, there was utmost silence again, broken only by the sounds of geese squabbling on the river.

I found one of the old village crosses marking the fallen of WWI, but when I tried to read it, I could only make out the number 26. Of course that has nothing to do with anything.

Maybe this muddle in my brain comes from larians telling me that apparently we are in for a hard winter. Pundits though, what do they know? They told us we were in for a hot summer!

Comments

[caddyman.livejournal.com]

Every year, taking in turns, either the Fail or The Excess forecasts the 'coldest winter in living memory'.

Occasionally we get a comparatively chilly winter. One day they will be right and present themselves as some great oracular organ.

Excess every time!

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

I think the Met Office needs its own TV channel.