The cuts crackle on; little to report. It's my first winter working in County Hall, and when the sky is clear the sunset shines right through the building and out the other side, and for a bright half-hour we work bathed in nectarine-coloured light.
Went back to the Oxfam bookshop last week -- too cold and dark for gardening -- and was startled to find how much I'd missed it. I found a gorgeous turn-of-the-century (last century, not this one) edition of On Melancholy with type you can feel as you run your fingers over the page and a magnificently elaborate frontispiece.
There was also a very sad thing that happened; I found the friendly little orange cat that had been crossing Abingdon Road from his home in Grandpont dead by the road and had to call the owners. I know some of you had seen him, he was a wanderer. I remember how much I worried when I first started letting Harlequin out; you never really know how it will go. Well. I did a strip about it, but it is sad, so you might not want to look.
|Milo The Wanderer
Please be aware that this is a sad story.