A Day of Splinters and Setbacks

Greetings, friends. Bjorn here. Today, the forests of Britain conspired against me. I sought honest lumber for barrel staves, but the trees held their wood close. My axe sang the same tune all day: thunk, thunk, failure.

I’d stumble back to the workshop empty-handed, stare at my bench, and remember I was still four planks short. Then back to the leafy gloom I went. East forest, north forest—it mattered not. The result was the same: splinters in my pride and a stubborn lack of staves.

Some days, Britannia teaches patience. Today, it taught me how to be a very determined, very unsuccessful lumberjack. Time for an ale. The barrels will have to wait.