Sunday, July 6, 2008
A lone figure wanders the vast and cavernous halls here at Secret Headquarters. A bitter southerly has blown for days now, howling Antarctic winds with needle-sharp teeth. Christchurch shudders under snow, sleet, frost and hail, sometimes in the same day.
In these dark and echoing chambers, a faint smile plays at the lone figure's lips. A faint tuneless sound teases the ear. Could it possibly be... whistling?
Yup, whistling. You see, winter it may be, but in my heart, summer reigns.
The lovely and talented Agent Anne has the latest manuscript. There are no revision notes yet, and no new project has been started. It's even too cold for oil painting. The Full-Throttle Lifestyle is as close as it gets to idle.
My to-be-read stack is dwindling. This...
is gradually becoming this:
With my time undivided, I'm reading whatever I want to, whenever I want to. It's bloody lovely.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put my feet up by the fire with a small stack of favorites.
I'm hoping a few well-placed matches, a comfy chair and a big mug of hot cocoa should transform this...