Its July 24th; mid summer. We’re in the midst of the season of sunbathing, pimms-drinking and bright blue sky’s yet I sit here reading Dickens’ ‘Bleak House’ on my sofa, drinking a rhubarb tea, whilst the sky has adopted a rather depressing and gloomy grey colour. British weather sucks.

they might be giants  bleak house

I have ‘THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS’ on loop in attempt to cheer me up as the dark sky’s outside are creeping their way into my head and creating thoughts that promote less-vibrant emotions.

Oh well. At least the tea is tasty and the music is good. Dickens has yet to prove itself being only fifty-whatnot pages in of the seven hundred and whatnot page novel.  Today is certainly bleak.


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