Another Year Alive
Never say die! Golden (73) Years. Friends old and new have dropped in, defying the “distancing” diktat and two-fingering the engineered paranoia, to celebrate the fact that I’m still around, alive -if not well, and pretty much as they left me last year; that is unrepentant and obnoxious. They have brought me the usual gifts. You know: flowers (or flehs, as Primus calls them), Godivas by the boxful, mock pearls, and so on. Also, the new little Black Poppet*, the vessel that contains what I most need in these trying and tiring days: Infinite Patience. The ineffable Black Goat of the Woods with Far Too Many Riotous Churumbeles, has attended again. And, lo! She’s smiling!!! Admittedly, it is a wicked smile but all the same, it’s astonishing. I suspect she’s beginning to develop a sense of fun. Really, I don’t know what the Final Void is coming to.
A bonus this year has been that as well as receiving gifts, I have had the chance to make one present. A much wanted one, too. There, all is fluffy.
Have the customary un po’ di mu’ and stay awkward, stay silly and stay sane.
*The little Black (Voodoo) Poppet has a White Twin who will make her debut soon. El que avisa no es traidor.