So still this morning. A milky sun giving a soft and gentle light. No wind. A very distant hum of traffic on the main road. Birdsong. I keep meaning to re-listen to my bird song CDs to help identify the different calls. I disturbed half a dozen goldfinches making the most of the opportunity for a blackberry breakfast. Incidentally the collective noun for goldfinches is a charm as my father once informed me. (Other collective ornithological delights here. A bellowing of bullfinches is a particular favourite.).
Today I'm particularly aware of the onset of the cold months as my gas central heating boiler's days are numbered, or so the British Gas technician I called out when the radiators remained stone cold after half an hour of running informed me. I'm lining up several firms to give me a quote on a new, modern, energy efficient one over the coming week or so but I'll miss my old warhorse. It has a steampunk look about it and dates from the late 1980s, from the era of Duran Duran, padded shoulders and mobile phones the size of a brick. It has grunted and creaked and whirred its noisy way through the last six winters since I moved into this house and I've always been aware that it and I have been living on borrowed time as far as heating is concerned. Even now it hasn't given up the ghost completely, as it still provides hot water in the taps.
Quite a significant week to come all in all. I've an appointment this Tuesday that I'm pinning far too much hope on because, probably mistakenly, it feels like my last hope of getting back to anything approaching a normal life. Yes, there is more than a hint of desperation here but my ability to "trust the process" has been severely tested of late. Don't want to say any more about it in case I put a jinx on the whole business.
