I’m off to a Christmas Party tonight, which is a big event for someone who works from her home and doesn’t socialise with real living people a great deal. Most of my daily interactions are virtual, or consist of sideways peeks at the strange denizens that erupt from my subconscious.
So, I’ll be wearing a party frock (bright red!) and a new pair of boots I love with a secret girlie passion. I don’t dress up often, and I enjoy it when I have an opportunity to do so.
I will be able to indulge in a few drinks thanks to Martin’s magnanimous offer of a chauffeuring service.
It’s been stormy in the West of Ireland lately. When I visit the woods there are signs of destruction everywhere. Sometimes I imagine that a giant has been stomping through the trees and has flattened sections under its oblivious feet. After a vicious storm it looks like several of them got together for a bowling match in the forest, with the trees as their pins.
The worst affected are usually the dead or old wood, which leaves opportunities for the young sapling upstarts to surge towards the sun when Spring finally rolls around.
Sometimes the giants squash the young ones too. When they have their parties, and dash down several barrels of ale, they are less discerning about where they place their feet.