Sunday Morning in Haworth - Cath, where are you?

It is far from being unpleasant. I woke up at 8 and remembered that Cath had gone to London yesterday. So I am on my own, having to make the Sunday somehow worthwhile. Radio 3 helps me to feel lonely and melancholically. Edvard Grieg the great master of musical sadness and yearning accompanies grey clouds rushing over the Yorkshire Moor. I think they play Morning Mood from Peer Gynt.

Last evening I took pictures of a new moon finding its spooky way over the hills. No, there were no Werewolves around.

However, sinister thoughts conquered me and who knows whether a cruel and hungry predator was coming close to my cozy home? Soon knocking on my door? I could feel it clearly. Werewolf night. I locked all doors and went to bed.  And slept very well.

Halloween or Werewolf: where is the difference? 

Yesterday I explained to your mother that you would come back on Tuesday. She seemed to understand. Gave me a familiar look and made me write down my name into her diary. And she added: no Cath. Margaret lives at Steeton Court, so nicely looked after by various nurses. I promised to come again today. I look forward, but have to finish my breakfast first and have a shower.

Although I don't like to talk too much about the weather the latter seems to me mostly alright. So, why complain when it drizzles a bit? Cath in London is now most likely sitting in a room, trying to get her thoughts together for a talk about God knows what. Did I complain about the weather? No, I didn't. To my great delight, the Sun is just coming out.