Not much joy this time of year, the festive season has sent out its half baked circus clowns, fluffy things, and glitter, its prefecture no longer trouble themselves with subtlety of invitations, they just polish their sabers, drag out the same old "You Will Have Fun," and you know damn well that years ago Jesus stopped inviting the totally out of touch bubble dwelling Magi to his birthday party. Can't wait for the peace and mental tranquility of the second week in January, yet moments of wonder remain and today the Ladybirds flocked, a mass of them, some of whom will find their way to the room where I sleep and there we'll share hours quarreling around the glue pot, getting all excited when the bedside light is turned on, yarning around the victories and defeats in the 2019 vegetable garden and generally reacquainting ourselves with the sense of community that is winter projects.
And this year the person part of the relationship has what he hopes is a Ladybird proof keyboard, so there'll be non of this idling away the winter in puerile entertainments such as sending in the weaker minds to jam up the F key and blaming it on the users careless eating habits at his lunch time. Sticky stuff peanut butter, but so is Ladybird goo, and if in doubt, I'll take the back of the keyboard off and fair warning if it's not peanut butter, then out comes the vacuum cleaner, which none of us like, especially the Girl Cat who struggles with some kind of delirium tremens at the very sight of it. Must have been something in her kitten-hood, just wish to goodness her traumatic reaction to the idea of a vacuum cleaner included an equally adverse reaction to the idea of biting the heads off rodents, but it doesn't. '