The snow turned to rain some time during the night. It’s now a balmy 32° sharp.

Also, before this started happening, I made it down the hill to check the Zeppelin P.O. box, and I guess neither snow nor rain nor ice nor sleet nor disabled articulated buses wrapped around light poles stay the Night Mail from the swift completion of its appointed rounds, because in the box were half a dozen manuscripts.

At least, manuscripts is what I assume they are.

Only one of them was from someone I’d heard of, and that from someone I’ve never met nor corresponded with. That bodes well, I think.