A happy New Year to you all from here at Streonæshalch.
The snow has thawed and melted into the usual muddy mush; the passing of the winter solstice has brought out the customary changes in birdsong and apart from the onset of Epiphany, things are back to normal. The snow has left a dirty green and brown wasteland. What the ravages of winter have done to the land, the Witangemot has done to the people; the wasteland lies in their collective consciousness. Each new year those hopes and aspirations that oil the wheels of human endeavour seem to be in shorter supply - thanks to the combined efforts of the Witangemot and the vacuous and ceaseless chattering and scaremongering of the soothsayers.
I'm not going to let it all get to me - after all, I'm just a common and garden moggy. I'm just here for a few years before I join the celestial cat set and enjoy unalloyed feline bliss.
Nevertheless, between now and then there's a lot of things to explore, and a great deal of mischief to be made. I'm going to have fun! Lots of it!
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