But I will miss the silent touch of winter, with or without the snow which was promised, but never came to my island within England.

Tired beyond tired. Cannot raise my head except to write a few words, then let it down again to nestle on a cushion on a sofa so soft and deep, my body is bound in a gaol of comfort in which I hope to serve a life sentence.

The Danube Waltz fills the air- I am whirled around in arms of many dancers, lovers gliding on golden dreams, Beauty and Grace with Valour and Honour their splendid companions.

The duvet is warm, so warm. I see the rain and the dark, but only through the warmth and glowing light of home.

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