The lark’s on the wing

Dear all,

It’s the afternoon and I’m sitting in my garden trying to find a critical analysis of conservatism somewhere among my philosophy notes. I’m also trying to to find anything more on liberalism, as I have quite enough. I’m also trying to work out whether socialism is communism or whather communism is a subset of socialism.

Today is a glorious day. The sun sun is out, the sky is blue, there’s not a cloud to spoil the view. I can hear birdsong, the gentle drone of insects and some children playing several doors down. I’ve brought my laptop outside to get some work done, but it’s hard not to just sit and muse over the beauty of nature. To be honest, apart from my cats, I feel very alone out here – not lonely, just solitary – even though I now my parents are just inside the house.

It’s such a wonderful place to sit and think, resting in the shade on one of our garden chairs. I was wondering just now – can people in comas get hiccups? If so, how do they make it stop? You can’t get them to hold their breath or drink a glass of water upside down.

My initial enthusiasm for revision has faded, and I am slowly settling into my usual holiday routine. I read, watch a film, do some tidying, do some cooking, run errands and have some time sitting and doing nothing at all. Today I made asaparagus soup, although it turned out rather stringy – mainly because I had a mishap with the blender.

The flowers are out in the beds, and this summer’s crop of salad leaves, herbs, tomatoes, strawberries and raspberries is slowly coming along. I persuaded my mother to expand our rather tired repertoire this year, because I do so enjoy growing things that have a clear purpose. Not that flowers aren’t nice and beautiful and all that, but fruit and vegetables give one such satisfaction.

I shall have to get on with things, I think, before I drift into sleep. The sun is so very warm, and I am so very comfortable. Yet needs must – philosophy calls. I angered Luke last night when we were talking about existentialism. You know, I feel very boring talking about Luke all the time. Perhaps it would be better not to mention him at all. I shall try my hardest not to, except possibly on Monday (when we intend to go to an art gallery together). I think that an outing is a legitimate thing to write about.

I charge you, dear reader, to spend some time outside this weekend. Just sit and think and admire everything around you.

Lots of love,
Wilhelm Scream.

P.S. I am rather taken with the idea of giving my posts titles from poems or books or quotes. From now on, bonus points to anyone who explains the reference in the comments section.

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