Little Grey Men

It’s the last day of February today. Where in the world did February go? I’m sure it was only Christmas last weekend. Is this how life works? A slow acceleration until you’re not sure how old you are, or how long it’s been since you last saw so-and-so?

I sometimes hear a song on the radio and remember being somewhere listening to it. A moment decades in the past. How does our brain do that? How does it record fleeting images so perfectly? Perhaps it’s doesn’t. Perhaps it only records enough so we might fill the blanks in with rose tinted imaginings.


I’m tired. As you might gather, given the lack of daily nonsense eminating from my keyboard, I’ve hardly touched the ground for the last few days. Work is ramping up, the kids are back at college, and the house is returning to the continual churn of washing dishes, washing clothes, and tidying up. The usual.

I’ve been thinking about getting my running shoes back out. I need to do *something*. Something away from this desk – this room – this house. I need some fresh air, and some sights, and sounds. I can’t remember the last time I met up with any friends. I need to do something about that too.

Ok crikey. It’s almost midnight. I should go brush my teeth and dig the book back out I’ve been reading for the last few nights. After watching “A Fire in the Sky” with my eldest daughter, I’ve been filling my head with all manner of ludicrous stories about little grey men with almond shaped eyes. I’ll probably give myself nightmares.

Maybe a cup of tea before bed might be an idea.

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