In the bleak midwinter

And it is bleak when you are working in an underpopulated office and go out to Starbucks for no other reason than to relieve the dreadful tedium of it all.

So here is my feeble blip for today: Elynor Rummin, alehouse wife immortalised by the poet Skelton. She looks scary if you asked me but the pub she is plastered on the side of (The Running Horse in Leatherhead) is a decent, nice, honest little boozer serving a very good drop of Shepherd Neame.

Have spent a lot of money in the Amazon Kindle sale today. Off to see the Aged P for supper after work. Then hopefully home in time for a little night music ...