Battered but Unbowed

In an older life, the mantra for today would have been TGIF and drinkies with neighbours, but in the current climate every day feels like a Friday and with no agenda during the week, there seems little celebrate. I can only say that Fridays seem to come thick and fast which is strange given the vacuity of each preceding week.

I imagined I might have a day off from mindless walking when I found the rain heavy and horizontal when I went for my paper before breakfast , but as luck would have it the rain stopped and I had no excuse.

It was a windy day and although the small sparse groups of yellow crocuses have won the race amongst other colours of their kind for appearing, they all looked rather battered and miserable in the aftermath glaur left behind after the snow. Battered but unbowed.