Trying to plot some kind of escape from a head-swimming, too-many-naps-taking, not-enough-words-writing case of doldrums and doom, longer than ten lovely minutes in this secret spot. Thwarted fairly amusingly at every turn so far, but there might yet be hope.
This is a picture of the beautiful detailing of my violin bow, which I inherited from Dr Robert Bolton, the late husband of my Grandmother Joyce. He was a very amazing man. Playing with that bow helped cheer me through today.