I woke up feeling dreary, lay here for ages feeling worse, sat up and and wrote a long email to a dear friend, a litany of problems and complaints, ending with, “Meanwhile it is February.”
Then I had a second mug of Yorkshire tea, two home-made oatcakes with home-made lemon curd, the sun came up, and Dave and I had a chat about the tricky art of translating poetry.
Things felt better.
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