It's an odd patch. I get bad news, I reel, I find my feet again, I realise that until I get more facts I can't make any decisions or plans, and I am left in limbo. I won't get more facts until this Thursday at the earliest.
At least it isn't my health, or that of anyone close to me.
Meanwhile the weather veers between dramatic late autumnal sunshine and dramatic thick mists and raw chill. The ground is thick with fallen leaves now, but even now there are still many more clinging on to the trees, for we still have not yet had a single frost, or a single gale. I am beginning to allow myself the hope that the weather for my winter break in Cornwall may be okay. It's only ten days' time before I go now.
In the last week I have, besides work, been doing some more writing, had an afternoon birdwatching and sketching at the Wetland Centre, baked chocolate orange sultana muffins, had supper with a friend, been to "The Sleeping Beauty" (Marianela Nuñez, absolutely wonderful again as Aurora), sung (badly) in the first Christmas Choir practice and been on a Tree Identification training walk. I've been busy, and happy. But I hate this business of being in limbo. It's like being in the dentist's waiting room, only worse by at least an order of magnitude. Even if in the end the news is bad, I'd rather know, and at least be able to plan for it...