Almost finishing my book. Like the story. It's very sad. And I have to say that I absolutely hate King Henry VIII. A most selfish man. Ambition and power really does corrupt, I think. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Also, stories should not involve little children being... maltreated. I can deal with blood and gore and war and all the fighting, and grown-ups dying. But put a little child in the story, and make it a pawn, and I fall to pieces in fear for its life. Am traumatised enough by what happened in PiF.
I realise that everytime I go home from wherever, taking the train, I look forward to that walk from the interchange right to my doorstep. During that 10 minutes or so, I simply let my feet carry me, and my thoughts start to wonder. The route is so very familiar that my feet really just leads me. I'll be so far off in my thoughts that, I think, if you saw me, and waved and shouted to me, I wouldn't notice you. Much like being engrossed in a good book. More than once, I caught myself at it. I'd be walking and I'd start thinking about something and then suddenly, when I'm finally fully aware of my immediate surroundings, I'd be at the lifts under my block of flats. And I'd realise I had no recollection of some parts of the journey. I mean, I do vaguely remember walking, but it seemed over too soon. As though I was so absorbed in my thoughts, the real walk seemed a blur.
I like that solitary walk home. It just gives time to think, to wonder and to ponder. I don't know what to call it... It's just... peaceful. Or perhaps it's a calming exercise, both for the mind and the body.
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