candle up the stairs

There is something eerie about walking up the stairs carrying a candle. I even frightened myself the other night in the blackout when I saw how smoothly my shadow moved up the wall caused by my havina to carry the candle steadily in order it not extinguish. The shadow gave the impression that it was being floated up the stairs and I thought of Jane Eyre's living silently beneath the mad Mrs Harcastle. Fortunately my shadow was not wearing one of those nightcaps and long nightdresses.
Peter and his little daughter Betty brought me around narapela pawpaw asde and I got some bananas so I will experiment to see if the pawpaw takes away as Charles Kinglsley in Westward Ho I think had it "this stinking body of mine". I suppose it is the relentless humidity but I had never noticed the body was all that foul before. I'm using one of the designer men's eau de toilette - Guy Larouche Black Bottle Drachor Noir so I don't offend too many people. Some would say too much information but having read John's story I think I must have adopted maximalism of personalism which I theorise is distinctive of Melanesian way of thinking. Maybe it was washing in the cistern water that did it - not the bowl water, the cistern water!