And so we come to the time of year when I quote Thomas Hardy's immortal words (written concerning November 5, as it happens); "Black chaos comes and the fettered gods of the earth say, 'Let there be light'"
Normally I quote this particular phrase some time in mid-October, when I realise that the Beaker Folk have snuck out and covered the Moot House with bling while I wasn't looking. But this year, they were all so excited by the 3,000 posts milestone that they forgot all about it.
Until this morning, when they awoke to find the sky an inky-black, a light rain falling and the cold in the air bringing the threat of winter. I came home this evening to find a subtle "adjustment" had been made to the demesne. There's dancing Rudolphs; dancing Santas; singing penguins chasing cuddly polar bears around the roof; animated bells flashing all over the place; white lights, green lights, red lights and those super-bright blue lights that make you think you're going to get a migraine shortly. The bill would be enormous, if the electric company wasn't paying us so much for the energy we put into the grid from the heat pump we drive from the bird bath.
Bit of a mistake in Big Meadow, though. It was a lovely, romantic thought of Shelvin and Argwurt, providing a lovely double-row of white lights leading up the Great House, to guide Santa on his way come the big day. But it's not turned out great. Easy-jet want their plane back, and I've no idea how we're going to get it off the soft ground with that short a runway.
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