They came flying from faraway now I'm under their spell. I love listening to the stories that they tell. They've seen places beyond my land and they've found new horizons. They speak strangely but I understand.

And I dream I'm an Eagle. And I dream I can spread my wings. Flying high, high, I'm a bird in the sky I'm and eagle that rides on the breeze. High, high, what a feeling to fly over mountains and forests and seas. And to go anywhere that a please.

As all good friends we talk all night, and we fly wing to wing. I have questions and they know everything. There's no limit to what I feel, we climb higher and higher. Am I dreaming or is it all real.

Is It true I'm an Eagle. Is it true I can spread my wings. Flying high, high, I'm a bird in the sky I'm an Eagle. I'm and Eagle that flies on the breeze. High, high what a feeling to fly. What a feeling to fly over mountains and forests and seas. And I can go anywhere that I please.

Maid Marian of Sherwood Forest

The football will be starting soon. The last time I looked Derby were drawing nil - nil. I wonder if things have changed. I will soon find out. And see you again soon. At half-time.

TARA !

Maid Marian of Sherwood Forest

I will take another break and get my head in my book now. I should finish it tomorrow. If the gremlins are behaving themselves I should be back with the chilling tale later as usual.

Bye for now,

Maid Marian of Sherwood Forest

"Throat pastilles," he muttered, trying to convince himself that what he was doing was innocent, even though he knew it was not. "I'm just looking for throat pastilles..."

He tried the top drawer, half-expecting it to be locked, but it opened easily. Inside were tubes of make-up. Cotton wool. Scissors. Emery board. Spare batteries for a radio. A "Diary"...

A diary!

It was one of those lockable jobs, with a metal clasp. Everything was in her, no doubt about it. All her most intimate thoughts. "Dear diary..."

He tried to force the clasp. It stayed locked. He picked it up the scissors and tried with those. If only his hands would stop shaking! Perhaps a hairpin would be better than scissors. It didn't take him long to find one.

Aaah!

As it clicked open there was a strange scuffling noise in the roof, but he was too intent on what he was doing even to wonder what it was. All he was concerned about was Christina's diary.

To be continued,

Maid Marian of Sherwood Forest

Reading that story reminded my about something my husband said not long ago. He said, "I had a dream that I opened one of your letters by mistake and read it."

"That was no dream," I said. "You are always doing it! Its a good job I haven't got a secret lover," I said.

Anyway, If I am not around early in the morning, I should be around early afternoon. Sleep well till then.

Maid Marian of Sherwood Forest