An Irish Airman Foresees His Death, by W. B. Yeats
In Which Your Humble Blogger cannot go for long without the society of his likes.
In Which Your Humble Blogger sees nothing wrong with politics, which expresses the opinions and preferences of people, which are kinda important in a democracy.
In Which Your Humble Blogger gets to work.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does not turn out to be the hero of this tale.
In Which Your Humble Blogger hopes that the waterlogged outfield will dry a bit.
In Which Your Humble Blogger gets on his feet again and then has to work out how to sit down.
In Which Your Humble Blogger majored in Math, so there's that.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn't have a thing to wear.
In Which Your Humble Blogger talks, but not about the subject of the conversation.
