Right, 9.30 at night here and really time to close down. We have to get up at 4 am (why is everybody from Yarn Harlot to Ms. Knitingale getting up at 4 am lately, really I feel in good company!) to get to the airport. Fly to Amsterdam and then to Vancouver, getting in almost at the same time we leave, thanks to the delights of different time zones.
Rest assured I will miss no opportunity to update the weblog and see what you have all been up to. This is my first lengthy trip away since getting into the whole weblogging thing and I will MISS everybody.
Until we talk again, here's my very very favourite poem. You probably know it, and it's a bit hackneyed by now, I suppose, but it expresses so much.
An Old Woman Of The Roads.
Oh, to have a little house,
To own the hearth and stool and all,
The heaped up sods upon the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall.
To have a clock with weights and chains,
And pendulum swinging up and down,
A dresser filled with shining delph,
Speckled, and white and blue and brown.
I could be busy all the day,
Cleaning and sweeping hearth and floor,
And fixing on the shelf again
My white and blue and speckled store.
I could be quiet there at night
Beside the fire and by myself
Sure of a bed and loth to leave
The ticking clock and the shining delph.
Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark,
And roads where there's never a house nor bush,
And tired I am of bog and track,
And the crying wind and the lonesome hush.
And I am praying to God on high,
And I am praying him night and day,
For a little house - a house of my own,
Out of the wind and the rain's way.