No need to send any emergency vehicles my way. I’m merely obsessing about numbers again. Last year it was the eights, approximately a month earlier than now. But it’s odd the way it is 999 at a time like this. And last Wednesday was the ninth day of the eleventh month. I’m presuming it’s coincidence.
Anyway, today it has been nine years, nine months and nine days of solid Bookwitching. Who’d have thought? On the other hand, I don’t suppose anyone sets out to write a blog, expecting it to be for a set period of time. I don’t know how long I will keep at it, but I reckon you are safe from this type of inane blog post in the future. Somehow 10, 10, 10 seems wrong. Besides, it’d be too close to Christmas.
And I’ve had the party, even if I broke my promise of inviting you. I suppose I was worried I’d run out of Irn-Bru. I now feel all partied out. What’s more, the ‘dining room’ is gone. Not to a better place, either. But we’re hoping its replacement will be a better place, if and when it happens. We had Jekubs to begin with, which made me very nostalgic for The Bromeliad. The Jekubs dug trenches, of which there are still remains. And there is mud. It’s not quite war, though.
We could make it an al fresco Christmas, I suppose.