Nil November

 Wednesday. 10.25 a.m. Yesterday I didn't feel all that well. I had what seemed to be a migraine, which I rarely get. It seemed like the flu or possibly covid. This morning it seems to be gone, but it wasn't pleasant. A short time lying on my bed did help, but not entirely.

There was quite a heavy rainstorm early this morning, around the time I woke up, but at the moment, there is no sign of rain. The Environment Agency has declared a flood warning for Milton Keynes and the area, no doubt because the River Ouse flows through Newport Pagnall.

I've just come back from a shopping tip to Sainsbury's, and it looks as if Christmas, or at least, the run-up to the festive season, is in full swing. There are Christmas trees everywhere, of varying sizes and presents, or at least, the options for presents, very much in evidence.

Thursday. 4.10 p.m. I now have the bookcase I was given screwed securely to the wall. I am slowly moving the piles of books I have around the flat into the bookcase. I am so glad I was given this, and I have the chest of drawers parked in the entrance hall of the flat, and that will be moved into my bedroom once I have cleared a space on the furthest side of my bed.

Friday. 10.40 a.m. It's a bit miserable and wet. It's pouring with rain and not good out. Just as well it's rain and not tea or orange juice! I know, I'm silly, but after all, why not?

I'm gradually moving the piles of books into the new bookcase. The place looks so much better, but actually not particularly tidy!

Saturday. 12.25 p.m. It's a very grey and gloomy day. It makes me think of this poem, called 'November' and very appropriate for the sort of day it is. When I was at school, we learnt poetry and sometimes had to read it aloud.

No sun — no moon!
No morn — no noon —
No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of day.
 
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member —
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! —
November!

It was written by Thomas Hood.

There is a fog, not exactly thick, but as I look out of the kitchen window, I can see that this fog is obscuring a good deal of the view. Some of it has been Tippexed out, as you would if you made a mistake on a typed letter, long before computers and word processing.