Bride-y

"Charm is the great English blight." Ah, Brideshead. Starting with the golden hazy days of an Oxonian youth I never actually had, and ending up in the Gilded Age of a darkness that was the aforementioned non-experienced youth. If you take my meaning. Alcohol is doing a body good, as is its wont. Nostalgia has been an odd constant, of late, but in passing rather than as the centermost object of focus. A new development. As is the working the proverbial fingers to the proverbial bone and not finding myself proverbially despondent, if you know what I mean...(cf John Bishop circa 1995). Back to the stuttering, lisping, delightfully combed-over Antoine. Back to the darkness that fills my soul and shivers my body but becomes a place to visit rather than a place from which I must escape.