Foggy Morning

I actually enjoy the fog, something about the mystery of not being able to see far, I suppose that it goes back to my childhood, and the fact that it was easy to hide from figures of authority in such weathers.

Anyway it’s been a okay morning, I think. The poetry group was a little low on numbers, I don’t know why certain members weren’t there, and running late didn’t have a opportunity to ask anyone. However I managed to get to read several poems, and it’s always interesting hearing the older members, as they read from poets that I am totally unfamiliar with. Some of them are interesting enough to inspire me to want to discover more of that poets’ work and some of them are definitely not for me, despite their talent.

Hopefully I will be able to do more of the Avon this afternoon. As much as I love fog, it’s probably not the best idea to be doing the house to house delivering in it. On the negative side fog features heavily in adaptations of Jack the Ripper stories, and although it’s highly unlikely that someone like that is going to strike in the middle of the day in Morecambe, I still don’t like the idea that something might happen. I’m not the most aware person when I’m listening to music, and I can’t do the route without the distraction of music, and I’d rather not run the risk of rerunning my childhood almost accident with a friend’s mother nearly backing into me as I was leaving school.

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