going roundabout

Back from holiday.

Let's see. Stuff to sort out, but I can work on that tomorrow. Have been fairly tired all evening, but I want to force my body back into the normal sleep/wake pattern, so I avoided napping. Regretting it now, of course.

Somewhat nervous about work on Monday. Will they have found out they don't need me at all? Will some sort of long-running problem with my work have been exposed? (Okay, so neither is likely, but paranoia knows no bounds.)

Vigorous noises have been coming from outside for most of the evening. That would be because it's the 5th of November and people have been letting off fireworks. Since it is cold and damp out there, I am much happier to have been in here with the radiator on.

Next chapter of Winter War started. Go me.

The trees are various shades of brown, green and yellow. Nothing like New Hampshire. (With or without snow.)

---

The Road to Roundabout

Some say that Guy of Warwick
The man that killed the Cow,
And brake the mighty Boar alive
Beyond the bridge at Slough;
Went up against a Loathly Worm
That wasted all the Downs,
And so the roads they twist and squirm
(If I may be allowed the term)
From the writhing of the stricken Worm
That died in seven towns.
I see no scientific proof
That this idea is sound,
And I should say they wound about
To find the town of Roundabout,
The merry town of Roundabout,
That makes the world go round.

Some say that Robin Goodfellow,
Whose lantern lights the meads
(To steal a phrase Sir Walter Scott
In heaven no longer needs),
Such dance around the trysting-place
The moonstruck lover leads;
Which superstition I should scout
There is more faith in honest doubt
(As Tennyson has pointed out)
Than in those nasty creeds.
But peace and righteousness (St John)
In Roundabout can kiss,
And since that's all that's found about
The pleasant town of Roundabout,
The roads they simply bound about
To find out where it is.

Some say that when Sir Lancelot
Went forth to find the Grail,
Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads
For hope that he would fail;
All roads lead back to Lyonesse
And Camelot in the Vale,
I cannot yield assent to this
Extravagant hypothesis,
The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss
Such rumours (Daily Mail).
But in the streets of Roundabout
Are no such factions found,
Or theories to expound about,
Or roll upon the ground about,
In the happy town of Roundabout,
That makes the world go round.

-- GK Chesterton