It's not Not the Final Vinyl, but thanks anyway...

It's a cold one today, three inches of crunchy snow. The stove is roaring, expense be damned. Thanks to Toby I have somewhere to hang scraps of music. Folk may be lucky and chance to find a bar or two worth listening to once in a blue moon at least. Maybe not. Happen I will post some carols during the height of the annual commercial Christmas Massacre. The audio bar will give me opportunity to vocalise where it is not always appropriate to write. The blog was once blessed with a little radio, gift of T.W., I am half expecting the new gizmo to vanish the same way. I hope not.
At home we make plans in preparation for the coming year. Our small budget is already earmarked for sand, lime and many tonnes of stone. A good industrial strength garden shredder is also a priority. I am not stressed up about the lack of labourious activity I have got kind of used to winter coming round every year. It isn't the winter that causes my seasonal blues, it is the overlapping of the many miserable memories of Christmasses past. I will try and dig up some of my seasonal stories. The audio bar will save the need to transcribe from the hand written word. I don't garauntee pleasant listening but it will give some occasion to exercise your patronising liberal tolerance. Telling tales, from the man who ruined Christmas.
The coming year looks promising, I will be glad to share a slice or two of that if you should amble by. I will be working on building walls most of the year. I am not unhappy at the prospect. A better investment in the long term than a luxury apartment in Dubai or Florida. My humble efforts will I feel sure out last the inevitable rise and fall of the speculating nouveaux riches. The next phase of the roundhouse project will see the emergence of my grande chimney(not too grand). Comfort is coming.Shelter, shade and a generous blaze is what the garden field needs most, we have a lot in common.