The red skies of Ottawa

It's been a while since we had a nice bit of sunshine, not that I'd notice, said Eeyore, what with me being stuck inside, nose against the computer screen.

The mixture in Ottawacker Jr.'s stories is quite breathtaking at the moment. We have persevered with Lord of the Rings, and are coming to the big battle scenes at the moment. So, to make sure that there are no nightmares and other issues, he goes to bed with a good 20 minutes of A.A. Milne. I still have my copy, so we read it (or Mrs. Ottawacker does) and it remains a firm favourite.

Eeyore has become a Yorkshire donkey. A gloomy, lugubrious Alan Bennett-style of voice. He loves it. Ottawacker Jr., that is, Eeyore would hate it. "Always the butt of everybody's jokes, laughing at me because I don't go giggling around like a laughing hyena. Not like some I could mention."

The problem is, once you start, you can't stop.