Monk Quixote

I’m sat here, in the study, with only the faint hum of my iMac and the occa­sional pat­ter of my fin­gers on the key­board for com­pany. Over­head, the dis­tant thrum of another metal duck wheez­ing its way to Heathrow. Ear­lier there were a pair of mag­pies karakack­ing harshly at each other. And the builders next door were using their giant metal fart-machine to cut bricks. Per­haps the mag­pies were heck­ling the builders. (more…)