Gothic foxes and Indian Grandfathers

Found myself writing a poem about Gothic Foxes and the Brontës this morning. Then off to get a chatty haircut. Home and rather flailing about not knowing what to get on with next. Have got myself into an impasse when there is lots to be done, but everything seems to block everything else and I end up achieving little. Rather cross and frustrated with myself for this.

I did however connect with Ian, a distant relative, who is researching the family tree and has been in touch with Mum. Looking again at family information Mum had given me on CDs a while back. Rather liked this passport photo of my Grandfather Alex when he was a young man in India.