Sunshine and showers loomin'

I wish folk would leave comments on this blog. Its not like a goldfish bowl, folk looking in watching me flapping around, looking out right back at you. Our membrane is porous.

Unless, of course, its an invisible hand which moves the playing pieces. Shadowy figures from the past, seeking an angle, a weak spot.

Its crazy paranoid ramblings.

Outside the sun shines brightly. Cold beers and exciting company awaits.

HDIF this Saturday and cake-making earlier in the day. The weekend after involves baby-sitting and driving north and picnicing in parks.

Maybe it is my hand that is invisible, no one even an inkling of the machinations I have constructed, the power at my disposal, to use as is my want, for good or ill.

Crikey, I'm hungry, I ought to eat more food, have breakfast and the like.