Unpublished newsletters

I am currently tidying and typing this at 6 am. It is raining, but the light is okay to type in and I do not need to worry that I put the light on because only I am here. Everyone else is asleep, and I do not have to go in the garden.

Can it be a week ago that I uploaded your newsletter from a tiny tent in darkest Salisbury? Coldest Salisbury, too, and with my car not that much warmer.

Another newsletter, and it would be remiss of me not to say that I hope you manage to make it down to Salisbury and that you find the card of which you always dreamed, as well as, even more importantly, to meet up with your friends, and maybe even to see someone that you only know right now as an

Saturday, again, already. Where does time go? Ah, you see, but I have wasted it with little to show for it, when I ought to have done so much....

Tonight, I somehow do bring you a newsletter - though there were times during the last week that I almost did not.

Another week is slowly peeled off the calendar, and we wonder where it went. Or maybe we have a diary full of events which we can ponder over and relive when it is too wet to venture out?

Almost April, and I shall not be sorry to see the end of March, it has been tinged with sadness, and, worse, the prospect of more sadness. The pictures were hard to find, and I had to change my mind several times.

And so to another Saturday! Which is actually the eleventh of the year.

Ooh. Friday! Must be time for a catch up then.... So this week has again been hectic, and I have selected of the cards very wisely, because I knew full well I may run out of time, for I had a few adventures to go on, and it is motor racing again. 

So here we are, marching through the year, motor racing back on the radio, summer cannot be too far away, though you would never know it if you looked out of the window at the moment, for it is raining horrendously.