It’s well and truly winter now, even though the leaves have only fallen in the last few weeks. I think the snow in some parts is sign enough, if not the calendar. It’s also fucking freezing, but on the plus side, that appears to have finally killed off the wasp nest in the extension that’s prevented me from mowing the back garden since midsummer. (And annoyed the shit out of us with dying wasps spontaneously appearing in the house.)
Speaking of the garden, I’ve started leaving out fat balls for the birds that hang out there: goldfinches; sparrows; blue, great and coal tits; the odd robin. I feel like they’re getting to know me, as much as birds can know a human. It does make the heart feel good to see them from the kitchen door, at any rate.
Work-wise there’s plenty on my plate this weekend, with a lot of extra subbing that I’m happy to do if it pays for the few days I’ve booked for myself and Bee in Galway before Xmas. I’ve got a couple of film reviews to write up too, but not till the end of this month.
Other than that, and some music-related things I need to finish, I’ve been reblogging from my Letterboxd account, where I’ve been doing much of my actual writing — well, short-form reviewing; well, blurbing — in recent weeks. That and 1,500 words about wrestling on the Sunday morning before last month’s PPV, and as many words thinking out loud about the US election aftermath.
I’ve also restarted Enlarged Heart Radio for these gloomy months ahead, as I burrow into my musical collection for comfort. I’m shooting for two hours a month but don’t hold me to that. If you haven’t listened yet, do please check out the 12 episodes I’ve done since January and let me know what you think.
That’s about it, I think. Oh, one more thing: I missed the 15th anniversary of this blog, on the first of this month. That’s separate from the 17th anniversary of the website, which was in mid October. Too many years. Almost an adult! I can’t quite get to grips with the notion, to be honest. So I’ll leave it at that.