Quieter than it was. The river is a muddy brown colour and is trundling busily past. The heron was patrolling the riverbank yesterday, and the goosander bobbed downstream today. Two robins are fighting over a corner of the garden and the long-tailed tits are hunting for insects in the sycamore tree.
Those of us who live in the House of Stories are back to full work mode. The Christmas decorations are put away. Mozart and Strauss are playing on the radio, reminding me of Vienna. I could sip my coffee and pretend to be in a Viennese coffee house with waltzes playing in the background, but really I'm quite content to be here. I could go and play a waltz on the piano, but it wouldn't sound like a Viennese orchestra. A three-legged horse on a corrugated tin roof, maybe...
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