I haven't written anything in the blog for some time and I feel a bit guilty about that but I attribute it to the way things deliberately foil me just when I'm going to get started.  You know what I mean.  The mascara brush which disappears from the dressing table you're still sat at, the pen which wilfully hides behind the router, or the vanishing password crib sheet which you keep in a code that even you can't understand sometimes.  Well my life has been a bit like that recently but now I'm back   I'm in the middle of a very interesting Patrick Ness...

which I'll tell you about next time - if I can find it!  On the subject of life being a trial and the loss of any implement I might be using at the time I see that Robert Graves attributed this phenomenon to Lollocks. Lollocks, he said, are born in the backs of all disordered cupboard drawers, where they play hide and seek among collars and novels and empty medicine bottles and letters from abroad that will never be answered.  On hot nights Lollocks plague little children, gurgling in the cistern, humming in the air, skewing up the bedclothes, twitching the blind, and when old people are abed the Lollocks come skipping up the stairs and are nasty together in the bed’s shadows.  He wrote in the last century so these days we’d have to add obsolete chargers, empty biros and  ancient mobile phones to the clutter at the backs of drawers but probably the Lollocks will find a use for those as well.  


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