Damp becoming damper

What a bloody awful day.  Wet slathery wetness, unceasing, driving from the sooth east, not stopping to land on eye lashes.   Not forming pearls on the ladies mantle.  Not softly kissing the spider’s web.  According to the fish man (breathing through his gills) it’s set in until January 16th, 15.00hrs to be precise. The sun blinked at the back of four, the clouds laughed at its temerity and it moved on towards Lofoten. 

I struggled with the singular disparity of living in Orkney today which means non-understanding is the object of misunderstanding.  Utopian blurry boundaries are often at conflict between novels stacked next to nonfiction books within the shelves of Stromness Books and Prints.  The direct process of proximity (think Birsay Beach) is frequently queried, as is the practice, which depends upon a never ending stream of litotes and contra hyperbole.  Well, so it says in the Editorial of this week’s edition of ‘Pig Breeders’ Gazette’.

Envoi: I must remember to put more water in it.