Nothing much

I suppose if I'm writing this blog for myself, I should chronicle even the slow, wading through treacle days. Days when just enough work is got through by home time, days when my eyes are tired and sticky, I think with the first outriders of acid yellow rape seed pollen, if it isn't too early for that. Life is neither bad nor good, problems neither non-existent nor unsolvable. No dramas, no excitements, steady away. I don't miss the extreme highs and lows of wilder days, I don't need and couldn't cope with the stress any more, but I miss the sense of being alive.