PORTENTOUS FEELING

I've got that weird portentous foreboding feeling again. I had it yesterday, but it's worse today.

I don't know what it means.

Well, it means that I'm jumpy and angular, and reading too much into everything, and not really at peace, but other than that, I don't know what it means about what's about to happen.

Probably nothing. I'm probably just tired from staying up and writing about croissants.

It's possible that it started with me paying my council tax yesterday. Don't get me wrong - I don't begrudge paying my council tax at all, and my word, I'm grateful for teachers, nurses and refuse collectors! That tax is a joy really, and I prayed over it as it blipped out of my account.

It was just more than I was expecting, and that means I have to delay my next city-break adventure to a month when I can actually pay for it. That's life, says the Cliché Centre in my brain, echoing a thousand things my Dad would say.

Yes of course it is. You'd think though that the council would make it an easier process, instead of providing us with a website that throws up 404-errors, and then accepts, but doesn't verify, passwords with special characters in them!

As I said though - I'd much rather the money went to nurses and teachers than to fancy web developers. And I got there in the end.

Was that enough to make me feel a sense of impending disaster? I'm not convinced.

What then? Choppy waters in the South Pacific? Nope - just checked that and it's currently 29 degrees with an 8mph breeze. The Intrepids are fine. Inbound asteroid? I checked the BBC website but all it came up with was an episode of The Clangers. I think we're safe from a three-exclamation-mark-event.

It's just... something... out there in the atmosphere. My only comfort is that it will either resolve itself and I won't need to know anything about it, or it won't resolve itself, and I'll know everything about it soon enough. To put it another way, the tidal wave will either fizzle out on the sand, or... it won't.