Crepuscular

Quite a dreich, chilly day, stove on.   The elements made an effort to clear but soon resumed to utter greyness.
 
 I went to the tunnel and came back with carrots, onions, beetroot (the size of a small moon) neeps and parsnips.  The Parsnips (Tender and True) were better than expected.  My s-i-l attended Sunday lunch in Creel HQ.  It was tip top.  I tightened a valve on a radiator and then thought what to do about the compost bins that have collapsed by the polytunnel.  I exchanged  few messages with friends up in Shetland for the Box ‘n Fiddle Festival.  Arranged to dance with them on Friday night in a neighbouring parish. 
 
I called Rognvald and, as a result, I have been in deep therapy all day long.  For, and I hope you’re all sitting doon, Rognvald’s band will not be playing at Rendall Harvest Home.  However I feel I have a solution to bring him back next year.  I wish every one of you Blippers could just see Rognvald playing at Rendall HH.  It would be revelatory for you. 
 
Word reaches me that Sergei Prokofiev’s first English phrases were:  ‘water closet’ and ‘jockeys’ club.’