In 66 days, I will no longer be formally employed.

In 74 days (+/- 3 days) all our belongings will be packed up and shipped to another state, about as far south as you can go. The dogs are aware that something is happening; Frank is slightly nervous and slinks away whenever he sees another box come off the pile.

The rubbish bin overflows, the mind boggles and there is a slight sense of panic hovering in the back of my brain.

Serious consideration is being given to the cancelling of newspapers.

Yep, it’s all happening here…


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