At the bridge of the failed painter, I stoop and check the sagging timbers before placing one foot, then the other, on this sorry decrepitude. It cracks and pops like a first fleet ship, but the sounds are not ominous; more the rattled wheezing of an invalid friend. I proceed with care,sucking the thumb pricked on its splintery balustrade. Ahead, lies the gate and welltrod path and, branching like spider veins, the merest hints of tracks―overgrown, leading to a wilderness filled with possibilities. I stand and consider. Buttoning my duffel coat—a veteran of the moth wars, I step off the path, and into the weeds.
©L.M.Noonan
We have a strict internet usage quota mostly because of our 'rural' location.
I'm told that our distance from a subbox and the age of our telecommunications lines determines speed, quantity and I suppose quality of internet.
Anyway, last month the ferals managed to use up our allotted amount in half the time.
In plain speak WE HAD NO INTERNET beyond the worst kind of dialup. I could not even load my own blog page!
I could however, hang out a load of washing and boil the kettle and make myself a cuppa in the time it took to download my email messages.
So that's why I've been silent.
Also, I have been busier than usual with the demands of the ferals and the work that provides us with our daily bread. And there have been several significant changes in our personal lives that have gobbled up lots of angst time and sleep time.
I'm still really busy because this week I'm being both Mum and Dad to the ferals.
Fong is in Malaysia for a while, so I won't be surfing the net for a little while yet.
Just sticking my head up to say Hoo Roo.
PS I'd really love to have a few helping hands like Jeffy has at his factory
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