2011 — 1 November: Tuesday — rabbits!

Despite strong feelings of déjà vu (all over again) I thoroughly enjoyed re-watching "Groundhog Day" and watching all the extras as my evening's visual entertainment. But now, not only is it pouring with rain, but I see that my atomic clock1 is currently telling me it's 01:19 and I've therefore successfully evaded all trick-or-treaters for another year. Time, too, for sleep. After all, I may well need to be up bright and early for Mr Ikea and his merry men, when they come knocking with Junior's new bed.



I've just rechecked the email from Ikea that Peter forwarded. The delivery is tomorrow. Which means today's supposedly-fine walking weather may not go to waste, after all. Mind you, there's a stonking great grey cloud out there at the moment, the moment being 08:08 and the fresh tea being hot.

Unlike Webster's dictionary, I shall shortly be Hinton Ampner bound. It's one of our "safe after rain" road walks, though the roads we use are not over burdened with traffic. And the sun is now shining. (Why do we say that? It shines all the time but stuff sometimes soaks up the photons2.)

Can't say...

... I think very much of this "nights drawing in" lark — it's only 17:54 and already pitch black out there. Though it reminds me of the title of an excellent novel by Tim Powers: "The drawing of the dark". (I should hate to have the job of rewiring my brain cells, assuming that's where memories reside.)

The walk was very pleasant, with a teaser shot for Big Bro:


A mere six miles, but not a drop of rain until the drive home, and then only a minor-league sprinkle. Mike's passed along a few TV recordings to keep me occupied. And Junior's just called to say he sold his bed on eBay and the buyer will be in touch shortly.



1  Which, I'm sure, never lies.
2  Does a photon shine in the dark when there's nobody to see it? And where does a photon go after it's banged into a cell in my retina? Doesn't bear thinking about.