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a robin sang

A robin sang to me this morning as I trod the well worn path to the shed. It reminded me of the Thomas Hardy poem, The Darkling Thrush and was quite inspiring. We live in tumultuous times not dissimilar to the fervourless world of the poet. Unfortunately Hardy got there first. The robin remains unrecorded in rhyme, historically unheralded.

Interesting to consider Thomas Hardy’s powers of observation. He must have heard that thrush and leant there listening for a while. The moment stuck in his memory enough for him to sit down and write when he got home. Did he carry a pencil and paper with him to note ideas as they happened in case he later forgot? Makes sense to me.

It should be added here that the path wasn’t really well worn as it is formed of york stone. I said that to indicate that my journey to the shed was a regular one. The path hasn’t been there long enough to show any wear from the relatively few footsteps it would have seen. 

Were I to have crossed the lawn every morning in the same direction there would definitely have been some wear specially at this time of year. As it is, I spotted some signs of wear early during the summer and started to avoid walking across the grass, or at least taking different routes to get to the shed. This also has the benefit of making an ambush less likely as any wrongdoers would have to guess which particular route I would choose on any given occasion.

I still have a tendency to cross the lawn on my way back to the house, at least when it is dark. Hey…

Now I am sat in a regular conference call on mute, camera off and the volume turned right down so the proceedings are just audible. It is quite distracting and I find myself coming off mute to chip in occasionally. In all fairness this meeting is probably the most useful of the week 🙂

Today is filled with meetings until 3.30 at which point I decamp to the Morning Star for the annual sole traders Christmas bash. In which the self-employed in my circle of friends, most of my friends actually, get together to celebrate the end of the year and reflect on the 12 months that have just gone by.

In reality there is little reflection involved other than whose turn it is to buy the next round. This year the numbers will probably be down for obvious reasons. Last time we held this party was two year ago. I was just getting over a horrendous cold and when we met in the snug of the Strugglers I passed it on to the boys. Ah well.

By Trefor Davies

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