Hello parish,
Well, we are getting deep into the bear-lore of our Hrolf Kracki epic now. For many years this was the part of the story I knew and occasionally told, but the wider saga wasn’t so clear. It’s still bucketing down here in Devon, a great grey river banging down on the tiles of my roof. I have a lump of peat from Moriarty’s house, but I won’t be burning it. It’s a wonderful thing to be turning to the quietness of writing after the great out-breath of the last month. I sleep, I sit by the fire, I get the rain on my grizzled mug, I write. More from me next week.
THE SAGA OF KING HROLF KRACKI, (PART THREE)