Monday was a right-off because of a Dentist’s appointment and an appointment at Rex’s soon-to-be Primary School, so I wangled myself a couple of hours to catch up today by pretending to be working at the Scottish Parliament and putting Rex in the creche. I finished my close reading, ready to start writing in earnest tomorrow.
Am considering using the following quote from Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes as an epigraph:
“Dad, will they ever come back?”
“No. And yes.” Dad tucked away his harmonica. “No not them. But yes, other people like them. Not in a carnival. God knows what shape they’ll come in next. But sunrise, noon, or at the latest, sunset tomorrow they’ll show. They’re on the road.”
“Oh, no,” said Will.
“Oh, yes, said Dad. “We got to watch out the rest of our lives. The fight’s just begun.”
They moved around the carousel slowly.
“What will they look like? How will we know them?”
“Why,” said Dad, quietly, “maybe they’re already here.”
Both boys looked around swiftly.
But there was only the meadow, the machine, and themselves.
Also, this arrived: