Wistfulitis

I'm in a strange sort of mood today which I'm hard pressed

to describe.  But that's what I like about the English language;

all it's twists and turns, subtleties, nuances and shades of meaning.

It must be here somewhere

So many possibilities to consider and options to eliminate in the

quest for that perfect assemblage of vowels and consonants that

says exactly what you're trying to convey

- the right word!

Come back later when I need cheering up

It's raining which I think is partly responsible for my current 

malaise.  I'm certainly not depressed in either the clinical or

over used sense of the word.  The black dog has most certainly

not been shedding his hairs at the foot of my bed - well

not recently anyway.

The Black Isle - feel the tingle?

The rather mournful, keening Celtic music I was listening to on

the way back from the supermarket has also got a lot to answer

for.  Runrig playing An Sabhal Aig Neill is guaranteed to make

the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention but what else

would you expect from a girl who's father hailed from the Black Isle?

Sorry you can't all stay - I want to be alone.

Are you lonely Julia?  No, I don't think so.  Quite frankly I've

got so used to my own company now that anyone else around

full time would only get in the way and clutter up the place.

Hendricks of course but not just now thank you.

Am I coming down with something?  Do I need vitamins,

feeding up, calming down, a quick shot of gin?

What's he laughing at?

Now hang on a minute, I've found the word.  It's wistful.

I am full of wist and vague, regretful longings.  And, what's

more, I think I know why.  When the lines on your face are

still making you smile long after something has ceased to be funny

that's when you suddenly realise that the thing that comes to all

of us has now come to you - I'm getting old!

Have you got any Earl Grey and can I warm my tartan slippers please?

Someone stick on the kettle I need to snap out of this fast.