So there I was, flashing a spotlight at the fireflies, hoping to get a response, when I discovered that I was signalling to a bunch of walkers wearing head torches. They didn't answer. I'm not sure if I should be offended, especially when the fireflies ignored me too.
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After I mentioned his prolonged absence in yesterday's jottings, Red turned up this morning. This leads me to believe that he reads the blog. I’m not sure how he manages it. There is no wireless reception here.
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The graders were working on the road leading up to the bridge today. With any luck, the bridge will be open by the end of February, fourteen months after its closure. In the meantime, the goat track detour is deteriorating rapidly. It is a scene from a Hammer horror movie, the surface crumbling away like a vampire in daylight. Except that daylight isn’t the problem. The problem is poor construction and a lack of maintenance. But it was a dodgy metaphor + simile combination anyway. Let’s forget I wrote it.
I was driving along the road at lunchtime when a short but very intense storm swept through. Sheets of water covering the potholes. (I must have hit every one). Streams of mud flowing down the inclines. And then a floodway at the end.
Oh, I am looking forward to voting in the forthcoming local council elections.
