Yours truly has a very feverish cold and as I don’t often get sick, it’s making up for it. I have been down since Bert’s death last week, I am being nagged by our bureaucrats again (there is nothing I can possibly do – I am waiting on another quasi-bureaucrat. I have long since done all I can. They know this, but it is still my problem.) and Barbs is away babysitting our grandson, so I have little comfort but to pet the little sausage dog on my lap. I am dog-sitting again. I am grateful for the fact that dogs do seem to like me…
Anyway, dogs, children, comfort reads. I don’t have volcanoes or civil wars so I have much to be grateful for – but yes, I am feeling sorry for myself. I apologize. It’s trivia, really. But when you’re inside it, well, it still feels rotten. Comforting little dogs, seeing the grandchild (modern video calls are great), doing ambulance call (heaven knows how if I am shivering and shaking – but there is no one else, and it is important to me to be there. Important to others too, I think.) … and that comfort read is great relief.
And it is with that I can say with pride I set out to write ‘comfort reads’. They are sometimes other things too, but that’s what I set out as a goal to do. And now my next goal is to go to bed, as the morning tempest I have to cross.
Mad Genius Club 
13 responses to “Comfort”
Your writings have brought comfort to many – never forget that.
I hope you feel better soon. I’m glad you have a sausage dog to take the edge off. And I am sorry to hear Bert has passed.
Me too
I am so sorry about Bert. And the cold you have. I have used three of your books as comfort reads in the last couple of years. Probably read each one five times. Thank you.
God’s blessings. I’m just getting over a round of nameless crud and sympathize. And I just used, “The Shaman of Karres,” as a comfort read this week.
Then, there’s no telling what a reader will find comforting
There’s a lot of that “comfort read” behind my writing, too. I like that little smile of satisfaction at the end, however woolly the ride has been.
So sorry about Bert, and the cold, and being alone and the Bureaucrats.
The Islands of the Blest.
https://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/three_decker.html
“No moral doubts assailed us, so when the port we neared,
The villain had his flogging at the gangway, and we cheered.
‘Twas fiddle in the foc’s’le – ‘twas garlands on the mast,
For every one was married, and I went ashore at last.
I left ‘em all in couples a-kissing on the decks.
I left the lovers loving and parents signing cheques.
In endless English comfort, by county-folk caressed,
I left the old three-decker at the Islands of the Blest! . “
Feel better soon cobber, I’m not done reading your stuff, so you better not be done writing it.
RIP Bert.
Ah, damn. While the end may be inevitable, that doesn’t keep it from hurting those of us left behind. May you see him again, in a better place.
*hugs* Take care, feel better, and may your spring become a glorious summer ahead, with less petty bureaucrat and more good times with the missus.
Sorry to hear about Bert, Dave. Good on you for taking him to the beach like that.
RIP Bert, you were his lifeline at the end and gave him a measure of peace. Remember that he gave you the same and cherish that.