The cold finally started to improve yesterday. I started to write a post on that subject, found inspiration came slowly and, eventually, fell asleep in my chair. Waking at just after midnight I humphed at missing a day on the blog and went to bed.
The clock went off this morning, waking me from a dream where Julia and I were about to embark, as newly-weds, on an academic career at an American University in the 1940s. I think I was vaguely remembering something I’d read in the biography section of a poetry book recently, probably about Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, but as I’m not from Yorkshire and we don’t have a gas oven it’s not a 100% fit.
Julia is now at work, I’m feeling optimistic about my prospects for the day and I now have approximately eight hours ahead of me in which to achieve either greatness or inner peace, or possibly both.
A cup of tea seems like a good starting point for either of those results, so I think I’ll go and put the kettle on.
The photograph is from the Suffolk trip, but it has tea in it so it will do as a library shot.