and where are we with ourselves?

where are we with kilvert in the year 1872?

yesterday he returned to clyro. rain poured all day. he missed the midday train from hereford (as usual).

'I dined at the vicarage and received a present of a magnificent writing desk, which I am writing upon now, the most beautiful and perfect I ever saw, of coromandel wood bound with brass, fitted with polished mahogany and containing two most secret drawers.' 

today the venables, his employers, move to llysdinam. his replacement is booked in. all that remains for him to do is to work out his contract and then leave. september 2nd 1972 he will himself move away. 

and where are we with ourselves? 

well horsemouth lost his temper in the morning and he just lost it again in the evening. rather a few more things are dead in the garden or the greenhouse than he realised. the odd plant unnecessarily butchered for no good reason that he can see. 

but that's not the real reason. his essential dilemma is unresolved. the thing he needs to fix is not his to fix (within the conditions as currently set). 

ah. the conditions as currently set. (horsemouth fantasises wiggle room). 

in between there were some constructive and positive moments. when horsemouth was supportive and helpful. hopefully he can do more of those today.

today

well he's up. he's fed the chickens. the bin men have been (hopefully he put out the right bin). in a bit a journey down the drive to recover the said bin. perhaps later a journey into the village to pick up the prescription and the hereford times.