Fanciful

Just a short blog entry to thank BugBear for providing the reason for the recent mysterious footnote. He generously stepped up and offered up his own two spare Lee Valley catalogues for the unfortunates who's names weren't drawn first time round. Thanks, matey :-) Although why LV catalogues are unable to travel outside North America except in threes, I know not. Are they cowards? Can't they be trusted in pairs in case you open the envelope and find they've had lots of little supplements...? I worry about these things.

I'm afraid no woodworking to report and the workshop's still a mess - albeit one with a sound roof again. Huzzah. My mind's somewhat occupied by a strange vision; a vision that might make sense to a handful of visitors perhaps. Call it fanciful, but in my mind's eye I'm standing at the bottom of a valley. On the upper slopes to one side is the Lord of the Manor and his troops. He may have an unpopular Black Knight and one or two of the knights would perhaps rather not be there at all. On the other, exiled and actively unhappy rebels. One side seems to think it's occupying the High Moral Ground, except possibly the Black Knight who likes a fight, and the other's throwing things, except possibly one of the exiled leaders who tried to suggest peace and was shouted down. No, he's throwing things as well now. Meanwhile I'm in the bottom of the valley, and it's misty; could swear there's a lot of us down here, possibly local villagers who thought it was their valley they were endlessly toiling over to make rich and fertile, leased from the Lord of The Manor. But I can't see them, and presumably they can't see me or each other either, so we're sitting in the middle, all feeling on our own and lost, wondering what the hell's going to happen to the valley when the minority on the slopes have torn each other to bits. Some of the more optimistic ones are carrying on working in the valley. Occasionally some of the more spirited villagers dash past in the mist and attack the High Moral Ground to point out it isn't HMG at all, but are beaten back by the Lord of the Manor's more, erm, easily convinced peasants, or occasionally the Black Knight. The Black Knight is particularly keen to point out that the villagers have No Say thus enraging some of the more lively spirits who go and join the rebels on the other slope. Others just down tools and stop doing anything because, they say, what's the point if the Black Knight might smite us with his spiky ball at any moment? The Lord of the Manor is working on some improved armour and weapons for his knights under the impression that it'll make the Black Knight popular if he has a fluffy cover to go on his spiky ball. Now and again a villager will call out from the mist as ask what's happening, but the Lord of the Manor doesn't answer because the armour will solve everything. And me? I do nothing; my house is built on the Lord of the Manor's land and my hands are tied. So I sit in the mist feeling unhappy, wondering if there really is anyone else out there in the valley.

I told you - fanciful.