Tomorrow another Biggy for Brexit. Good luck Mrs May.
Seriously our news is full of how if we leave the EU without an agreement, our
shops will run out of lettuce and tomatoes…. Why? I mean, our Spanish farmers
will still grow the produce, who will then buy all the salads that we would
buy? Also, so, we don’t have salads in winter, not going back too far, when I was
a young girl, there were such things called seasons. So, if something wasn’t
available, then we waited until it would come available. You appreciate it
more, don’t you?
Hub is sending my Waggatail wild. You should hear them. Poor
LF, is sitting next to me as if to say. “Mum, that’s really not the way a guide
dog should behave, is it?””
All that is left is the sound of silence and the fragrance
from our dinner of Fish for Hub and garlic from our Sons Pizza. A left-over
candle as its flames start to kiss the base of its pot and the fragrance of, I hope
a sweet sleep if not for me, for you for sure.
The house is quiet it’s time to close it up for the night.
Tomorrow is another day.
“The darker the
night, the brighter the stars, the deeper the grief, the closer is God!””
Dostoyevsky
Well Bloggets, I shall
wish you a good night sleep whatever time you say hello to your pillow.
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