Sitting before a blank screen on a dismal afternoon is not very inspiring ergo I am feeling most uninspired. The weather is bitterly cold here today as a sharp breeze has got up and the sky has been consistenly grey all day. In other words, the second Saturday in January has got very little going for it.
Jenny Joseph (When I am old I shall wear purple and a red hat that doesn't go) has died this week at the age of eighty five. Most people loved that poem and it was an inspiration to a lot of elderly people I think. I don't think I have quite reached that stage yet but I always bear it in mind for when I do.
I went into town to complete one or two jobs this morning and walking past our favourite Friday haunt decided to go in and treat myself to a toased teacake and a cafatiere of Columbian coffee (with hot milk). The cafe was almost empty, in fact the town was too, like a ghost town on a dismal Saturday morning. As I sat drinking my coffee and reading my Guardian I smiled to myself and imagined my dear farmer looking down on me. He would have thought spending money on coffee and a teacake when I only live half a mile away would have been a gross waste of money. (He wasn't a Yorkshire man for nothing you know). But I raised my cup to him nevertheless because he never begrudged me doing just that as long as I didn't ask him to join me (or expect him to pay for it!)