A pleasant weekend; Cat arrived, limp with a heavy cold but happy that her studies and exams are over for the summer. She carried off some of the books I'd piled up, having had another major clear out of works which I have no desire to read again. Some books can be returned to indefinitely over years, decades even. Others are a once-only experience. I can't see the purpose of storing objects which attract more dust than interest.

I'm in the process of making more space in the front bedroom as this is to become "my" room. My office will probably be in there eventually, plus more space for my painting and needlecrafts, plus (more importantly) a dedicated meditation area. I already have ideas for the decor but first I need to find new homes for that "really useful stuff" which all homes collect, like DIY tools and half-empty tins of paint.

How many DIY tools are in your home, and how often do you actually use them? And when you come to use them, isn't there always a broken bit or an "it-doesn't-quite-fit" issue to overcome? Tools and books share similar principles, in that the greater part of these collections is rarely used, gathers dust and yet inspires a reluctance in the owner to be free of them in case they "come in handy." That aeons may pass by without any urgent need for a specific item seems irrelvant to the owner, who bedrugingly shovels cobwebs aside during occasional forages into forgotten corners of crumbling boxes on sagging garage shelves. Such forages usually end in disappointment, as the retrieved tool or book is never quite right for the job anyway, and tends to result in the purchase of something new which, used once and only once, is then relegated to the pile, never to be touched again.

What do you call a hedge-witch who eats too much cake?

A hedge-hog.

I know; it's a terrible joke but it's had me giggling throughout lunch. Blame Tal for emailing it to me.

Its arrival was timely, as I was already relishing an evil chuckle or two following a conversation with a Wicaan acquaintance who is unemployed having walked out of a job. I won’t go into the reasons why she left; too long a story. Anyway, she was bemoaning her lack of cash so I suggested she perform a working to attract a job to herself.

She stared at me as if I had grown a second head. “That’s not allowed!”

“Why ever not?”

According to X (as I shall name her here), Wicaan beliefs forbid the use or any magic to benefit themselves.

“So if you were ill,” I said, “you wouldn’t use herb lore to help heal yourself?”

That’s different, she said. That would be ok.

So I likened getting a job to a form of healing; after all, she would have been healing her bank account.

“But using magic to earn money is wrong,” she said, totally adamant.

And why is that?

X’s reply was little more than a re-drafted hotchpotch of Xtian beliefs which cast money as a negative thing (despite both the Anglican and Catholic churches being extraordinarily wealthy and enjoying a tax-free status). X’s version added a mention of Karma and the perils of using magic for materials goods. Quite what these perils are remains undefined.

So I said, “According to your theory, it’s wrong for a witch to use magic to earn money. By the same theory, it would also be wrong for a plumber to use plumbing, or for a doctor to use medicine, or for a typist to use typing to earn money too.”

“But that’s different,” said X. “Those are practical jobs.”

Exactly! If magic isn’t practical, what is its value?

A few short hours later, while prodding my Facebook page up-to-date, I came across one of my relatives grumbling about pretty much the same thing. So here was another Wicaan-sans-job. I replied, “So much for your skilled use of witchcraft, hmm?”

From her response, it seems the connection between the two had never even occurred to her - hence my chuckles even before Tal’s hedge joke arrived.

buy unique gifts at Zazzle

Take a peek at my new range of fine art posters, which are also available on bags, t-shirts and greetings cards. You’ll find them on http://www.zazzle.com/AdeleCB either on the main page or listed under New Products. Let me know what you think!

Wirral Bookfest 2009 will go ahead despite the closure of many local libraries. The date for my writers’ workshop is yet to be confirmed, but Riverside Writers’ evening performance, New Tales for Old Byways has now been booked for Wednesday October 10th, 7pm at West Kirby Library. Last year’s similar event, Words from Wordsmiths, drew a decent-sized audience so we’re hoping that with improved publicity for this year things will be even better.

The gorgeous spring sunshine has enabled me to get some gardening done! The Lily of the Valley root-ball has been potted up now; so have the pretty yellow celandines that Mum gave to me from her own garden. Evelyn’s multi-coloured primulas are now planted in one of the borders, their position being limited to a location unlikely to be flattened during our two dogs’ haste to exchange woofing contests with our new neighbours’ two dogs. Ours are female; theirs are male--and it is spring….!

Work on Bethany Rose continues, of course. The total word count now comes to 35,000. I’m aiming at 100,000 again, so obviously there’s much to be done yet. Yesterday an idea popped into my head, which used the title of a book I read some twenty years ago: Olaf Stapledon’s Odd John. It was simply the perfect book for BR to be reading at that moment in the plot. It’s interesting how the mind can hold on to information for so long, even when that data seems almost trivial and without practical purpose.

Who knows how much our subconscious contains, hmm? For example, how many times have you sung along to an old, old tune and remembered the words perfectly even though you’ve given that song no thought for most of a lifetime? It’s interesting how the brain remembers some silly things but then forgets stuff it could do with hanging onto. Or maybe we really do remember everything but are too lazy to retrieve “boring” data from our brain’s memory banks? I suspect there’s a subatomic-sized librarian in there somewhere, pottering around my grey matter, and far too fond of tea breaks for the benefit of her own career.

Plans to tackle some more gardening were halted by today’s incessant soft rain. Instead I finished writing ch. 18 of Bethany Rose then had a book cull. I collect far too many books for the space available. Any non-fiction book that hasn’t been opened for five years might as well be consigned to the category of Outgrown Or Boring. Off to the charity shop with ‘em!

We watched a peculiar little film yesterday: The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes. Beautifully lit, and very surreal, the film used puppets and/or automatons as well as live actors. Basically, it’s a story of a piano tuner who is taken to an island-based mental asylum to repair a series of automatons. The asylum’s doctor seems to be madder than his patients (or at least that was my impression.) An interesting if rather puzzling film; it’s plot reminded me of something from the Twilight Zone or Tales of the Unexpected.

I’ve now finished reading The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, which took me a little effort to get interested in as the opening scenes are set in a tavern, and pubs hold no attraction for me. However, once over that little hurdle, I soon found myself hooked by this tale of how a young boy from a travelling troupe of entertainers worked his way towards becoming a man of legend and infamy. When the troupe is slaughtered, he’s left to survive on his wits until he figures out a way to enter the university. He soon learns that life in the highbrow world of academia can be just as dangerous as life on the streets. A very good read; entertaining, thoughtful and well-crafted. I have every intention of reading Volume Two.

My niece, Cat, will have three teeth removed today. Ouch.

Richard got the results of his blood test yesterday. His blood sugar is a cause for concern, and also his kidneys don’t seem to be functioning as well as they should be. The doctor expressed concern about his weight, too. All that will be done for now is that Richard will have another blood test in three months time to evaluate any changes.

Richard surprised me this morning with a gorgeous amethyst ring. It's an unusual setting, with a delicate bow at either end of the oblong stone. I knew nothing about it until he handed it to me in the jeweller's box. That is so like him; he's always buying me little presents all year round, whether there's anything formal to celebrate or not.

Yesterday I put a few more tweaks to a short ghost story, The Homecoming, which is set in Parkgate just down the coast from us. I'll workshop it a Riverside Writers before I call it finished, though, as I'm not totally sure it makes 100% sense yet. Sometimes when an idea is clear in your head you can't always see that the words on the page don't convey that idea clearly enough. That's where Beta readers come in handy.

On Friday last week I was invited back to City Talk radio to record four more of my short stories: The Club, New Year's Day, Clara's Wristwatch and The Faerie Tree. These will be broadcast during Roy Basnett's Zone Unknown show on Fridays between 10pm and 1am (GMT) on City Talk 105.9 FM.

Alternatively, you can hear The Club at any time throughout this week by going to the website at: http://www.citytalk.fm/showdj.asp?DJID=48793 To hear my bit, move the curser almost to the end of the slide.

If anyone is wondering why this LJ layout has been changed back to the original design, it's because the new one "ate" my guestbook. Not than many people have actually signed the guestbook anyway...!!! But it's a sparkly little gadget and I like it.

While I was in Liverpool on Friday, I visited the World Museum (as it now calls itself) on William Brown Street. No longer do visitors hike up mountainous steps to reach the entrance. Grand they may look, but those steps really were a bit scary. Anyway, I wanted to view the new Egyptian Gallery, but effortlessly spent three hours meandering round the entire place, taking in the aquarium (no seahorses now!) and the Romanesque statue section, which used to be bigger, and my favourite sculpture was absent. There was a lively display of Tibetan statues, and a gorgeous Asian goddess with twenty-four arms, and absolutely heaps of interesting, beautiful or educational things to see.

The Egyptian section didn't seem to have much new in it, unfortunately (in fact, I can remember pieces from the old displays which were not on show now, but maybe they're being restored?) However the collection's presentation has been greatly improved.

I was standing beside a mummy when a mother and two small boys approached. One of the boys wrinkled his face and loudly declared, "That's disgusting! Wrapping up dead bodies in bandages! That's horrible!" The other boy kept watching the mummy's fingers for any signs of life. I don't think the tea shop stocked tanna leaves....

However you celebrate Yule, I hope you have a great time!

The house is quieter again now. Richard's upstairs playing with his new toy, a gadget which records old LP records onto CD--some of those ancient albums are too valuable to play now, he says, especially his original Queen and similar. The market value of these things not something I know anything about.

And Cat's just set off for home--her shared student home--and in the morning her father will collect her and drive her home for the Xmas break from Uni. She's already talking about studying for a PhD. She's got to get this BsC first! And then a full-time job (rather than the part-time waitress job she already has.)

I'm pleased she's aiming towards a constructive goal; at her age, I hadn't a clue what I wanted to do--not due to a lack of interests but because I had so many. I had no idea how to specialise in just one interest when so many diverse and seemingly contradictory subjects held appeal. Plus the advice available to me was tunnel-visioned at best.

Mini Meditations!
These will be popping up in my blog from now on. If I like them, they'll stay. If not... They arrrive on LJ via my Twitter site, which is amusing at the moment.

He would have been 80 today.

Richard photographed this gorgeous dragonfly yesterday, when we'd taken the dogs for a walk (through many apparently fascinating puddles) beyond Gilroy Nature Reserve and along a country path which winds through the golf course towards Hoylake.

Some good news - Catherine has passed her science foundation course and will enrol at university in September, where she'll be studying forensics. We're all really pleased for her!

On Sunday, Evelyn and Mum had only just arrived here when Catherine and Hazel arrived too. Here we are in the photo, which Richard took: from left to right - Cat, Hazel, Mum, Evelyn and me.



The six of us went to The Twelfth Man for dinner. My chicken alfredo was lovely but other people were served frozen peas and oven chips, which are always tasteless and lifeless. The waitress dropped half of one dinner on the floor as she was about to place it on our table, and though she replaced the food she didn't bother to clean up the spilled food from the carpet. That was still there when we left.

Saturday saw me in Manchester, when I met with two friends. When burgers were suggested for lunch I hesitated. Regular readers of my scribblings will know I avoid junk food like the plague. However, my two friends hold similar leanings regards health and aesthetics and they said this restaurant made its own burgers from 100% Aberdeen Angus beef. We just made it before a monsoon drenched the city!

http://thatsfoodanddrink.blogspot.com/2007/07/gourmet-burger-kitchen-opens-in.html offers a fair description of GBK.

So, yes, if you’re in Manchester and are feeling hungry, I can recommend the place – pleasant surroundings, reasonably priced and excellent food. The milk shakes were yummy, too.

Sunday saw Emily waiting for Cat to arrive. That puppy explodes into happy yipping-yapping when my niece’s arrival makes the front gate squeak. The poor girl can hardly get through the door for our two dogs excitedly greeting her. She was wearing black jeans. Oh dear. When will she learn? Black jeans, white dogs….!!!

Right – on with some work…

Saturday's Circle of Hands gathering was rather thin on the ground, but never mind. The event lasted from 9pm-1am, regardless.

We were joined by Paul McDermott, author of Johnny Dupl'eau; 2e0dtoeric, author of Five Short Stories; hazeldixon, whose short story Acid Rain Rocks features in the anthology Desolate Places; xlastnitesdream, who is new to writing; xfangs_upx, who writes fanfic; and Katie, who also writes fanfic.

Subjects discussed ranged from our latest writing projects to the correct colour of Jared Leto's eyes. Spike Milligan, snoring cats, irritating computers and (in accordance with C of H tradition) chocolate were also mentioned.

The plasterer has been! (Yes, this is a change of subject...) Now we've got a brown rectangle of damp plaster where a door once stood. Before we moved into this house, two small rooms had been knocked into one. However, the job had not been properly thought-out or finished, as there were two doors, almost side by side, leading into the same room. We decided to block one up and free up wall space - hence the plasterer, today.

I've now got a title for the Sci-Fi story which is set on the Moon - The Arms of Nuit. I've not finished tweaking it yet, but at the moment it stands at 3,500 words.

Question:- Why do we call them "the Moon", "the Earth" and "the Sun", but we don't say "the Jupiter" or "the Pluto"?

Cat and her father (my brother-in-law) were here on Tuesday. Emily was thrilled that her adopted playmate was here twice in one week. On Sundays, when Cat's due to arrive, Emily sits waiting for her. Once Cat's here, Emily won't leave her alone, demanding cuddles and games of tug-o-war with her beloved rubber duck or Oinky Pig (a rubber pig which makes a loud "Oink!" noise when chomped). Anyway, Tony had his ears washed; Emily insisted upon it.

“So,” I said to Richard, “what did you cook for yourself on Saturday night while I was away?” We were on our way back from Lime Street Station where he’d kindly come to collect me after my weekend in Manchester.

“I got indigestion,” he said.

“What from? What did you eat?”

“Pilchards and scrambled egg on toast,” he said, “followed by rhubarb pie. And haggis.”

Sunday was fun. My sister Evelyn was here, then Lee arrived, and then Cat came round after she’d finished work. It’s not often that Evelyn is able to see her niece, so they enjoyed getting to know each other a little better over dinner. Earlier in the morning, Richard had cooked the roast lamb with honey and rosemary, and I did the rest of the meal. Cat’s vegetarian, so she peered at our lamb as if it was infected with Ebola.

Monday night saw Richard and Lee at the Pacific Road Arts Theatre in Birkenhead, for a Chris Rea concert. Meanwhile, I was at Riverside Writers’ latest meeting, when Tim and I planned the performance programme for Words from Wordsmiths next Monday, on April 7th. Nine members of the group will be taking part, and there will be a variety of fiction genres and poetry on the night.

Thanks to West Kirby Library’s staff, we’ll be able to offer tea and coffee. And we’ve been given the use of a microphone, which will help greatly.

If you’ve not already been invited to this event, consider it done! Free tickets are available from the library on the night, which starts at 7pm.

If your email box has been swamped by invitations, please bare with me. I’m in the process of tidying up my mailing lists so that this doesn’t happen again – or not intolerably so, anyway. If you’re on multiple mailing lists (you’ll be able to tell by the different email address) and want to escape from one, just let me know.

This morning, I sent out this month’s newsletter, which is mostly about Words from Wordsmiths – no prizes for guessing that much!

Sylvia and Richard on Caldy Hill

When Richard, Sylvia (gelertandbess) and I sat on the crest of Caldy Hill, the day was sunny if breezy - but what else can you expect being so close to the Irish Sea! Sylvia hadn't been on Caldy Hill before and promptly fell in love with the energy of the place. Emily and Ygraine adore the ancient woods which over this hill, of course.

By the time we'd hiked over to Thurstaston, having said hello to the horses en route, a distinct chill grew in the air. But as we had the dogs with us, we weren't allowed inside The Cottage Loaf - which is fair enough, of course.

As the waitress walked to our table with lunch, look what happened!


Sylvia and Richard outside The Cottage Loaf

Ah, the bliss of a cup of Chai.... I have become seriously enamoured of this drink. Twinings do a lovely one, flavoured with ginger and cinnamon.

And I deserve it, too, I think, after climbing up and down that horrible creaky step-ladder all afternoon. I've been spring-cleaning the kitchen, tackling the dusty tops of wall cabinets and the towering fridge-freezer; a tedious task, but one of those domestic chores which simply need attending to every so often.

The morning was given to nearly-finishing Clara's Wristwatch. I say "nearly" as I'm not altogether happy with this story yet. It's another in my series of short faerie tales for adults, and arose from the latest project for Riverside Writers.

At the end of our last meeting we had two minutes to pick the next project's topic, (before "throwing-out time" at the library). There was a magazine lying on the desk, one of those glossy society rags which people leave on their coffee tables if they feel compelled to fake aristocratic leanings. Anyway, inside was an advert for diamond-encrusted wristwatches, and so this became the theme of our latest writing project.

Mum is now upside-down for the next three months. Who will I talk to on Saturday afternoons?!! Since my father died last year, we'd developed the habit of phoning each other on Saturdays. We talk about nothing of any consequence most of the time, but that's not important. So, she flew to Australia on Wednesday - hmm, maybe she's there now, or nearly there; the flight takes around two days, apparently.

Riiight, I'd better go now. I must get the Alaskan pollock out of the freezer. Naturally, hubby has already nicknamed it the "Alaskan pillock" but, with a name like that, what else can you expect!

A busy day, yesterday. I spent much of it in Liverpool, wandering around the elegant Met Quarter with my mother. It’s not a particularly extensive designer shopping mall but we weren’t in a hurry to brave the sub-zero temperatures outside. We entertained ourselves by poking fun at spectacularly hideous party dresses.

I still don’t see why a designer label warrants such silly prices, when the garment doesn’t look much different from high street merchandise. Certainly the quality of sewing or fabrics weren’t noticeably better. It was amusing, however, to see an old acquaintance of mine scowling dramatically from a huge photo in Guess’s window.

We wandered into Mathew Street and had coffee in the John Lennon Café. There was only one other group of customers in there, but the coffee was good.

From there, we headed to the Christmas Market in Williamson Square. The fountain is (mercifully) switched off for this event, which sees a collection of Swiss log cabins set up around the square, each selling different kinds of international foods, toffees or crafts. I was tempted to buy some kangaroo or springbok sausages for Richard – but not at £4.40 for only six sausages. (For a similar sum, you can buy a small joint of beef or lamb here.)

In the evening, I went to our monthly Riverside Writers meeting, which was lively. Almost two and half years ago, Joanna McIlhatton had a cookery book accepted by a publisher who still hasn’t published it. She is also waiting for the publication of her book about country walks around Wirral, as the publisher (a different one) of this has been dithering for far too long, also. She’s had to update the text twice, and there’s still no publication date on the table.

Tim Hulme read aloud a wonderfully descriptive story called The Scarf, which he’d written in response to the group’s latest writing project, which had been set on a theme of December 21st. Peter Caton had also responded to this project, this time with a poem called This Cruel World. I hadn’t done this month’s project due to an honest lack of time, so instead I read aloud Fruit & Veg, which was last month’s project, (which had to begin with: “I’m an aubergine,” said (name). “What are you?”)

Next month’s writing project is set on The Diamond Wristwatch.

4.20pm, and finally I get to read this morning’s mail…!

Ruins Terra, which features my ghost story, Seagull Inn, is now available to buy from http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ruins-Terra-Eric-T-Reynolds/dp/0978514858/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1195054793&sr=8-2

Buy your copy today & post a review on Amazon or LJ (or both!) ASAP!!!

Within a few days, it ought to be also available from Amazon.com (the USA site). The information is already there, albeit with several errors. Eric Reynolds is the editor, not the author; and it is not a print-on-demand publication. This should be ironed out soon.

Also, Old World Magic has been accepted for inclusion in an anthology called Ruins Metropolis, to be published by Hadley Rille Books. This story returns to the theme of the Caldy Hill faeries, who you can read about in A Wirral Otherkin Trilogy (pbs. Amazon Shorts).

So, what else is new?

Richard, Mum and I enjoyed dinner at The Waterside, in Leigh, Lancashire, on Monday. The weather looked ominously grey, so we cancelled a wander round the small town and went straight back to Mum’s house. She’s been busy in the garden, cramming more plants into the already-full greenhouse in preparation for winter. She’s always loved gardening, and grows a lot of her own salad greens and tomatoes.

For the first time in days the howling gales and torrential rain were absent, allowing me to finish burning a huge pile of garden cuttings. At last it’s nearly done! There’s a few large branches which Richard will have to saw up before they’ll fit in the brazier, plus the old raspberry canes which we’ve dug up – and then the job is done for now. (Round two is to follow!) This took up most of today, believe it or not.

 

Reminder:-  Don’t forget the scheduled chat in the Circle of Hands chatroom at 9pm tonight!  (See previous entry for details.)

 

Last night’s meeting of Riverside Writers was lively.  Two new faces, plus the new face from last month, joined us for our readings of Hallowe’en tales!  And what a varied set of stories they were, too…  But this is part of the fun of setting group projects; despite sharing the same starting point, everyone comes up with something unique.

 

Next month’s writing project promises to produce some highly imaginative responses.  Our stories or poems are to begin with, “I’m an aubergine,” said (name).  “What are you?”   If that doesn’t get the ol’ brain cells twinkling, nothing will!

 

My dogs are not happy.  First, they had two baths in two days.  The initial bath was because they were due one.  Fragrance de Pouch can be hard to live with.  The follow-up was due to the little monsters having performed numerous rolly-polies in some fresh compost. 

 

Today they’re barking mad – literally, unfortunately – because two workmen are in our garden to put up a fence.  The fence is to contain El Pup AKA Houdini.  They're doing their utmost to warn the builders to keep away from the house!

 

Meanwhile, back at the puuter, work on Rowan continues….

 

It’s our wedding anniversary tomorrow – 11 years already!  Richard presented me with a gorgeous gold ring set with five rubies, in a Celtic Cross design.

Our washing machine died on Sunday afternoon, when I was half way through cooking a roast dinner. I was up to my elbows in steamy carrots and soapy jeans, simultaneously needing to leap for the mop and stop a bubbly-damp Emily from eloping with soggy underwear. That’s when Ygraine decided to have hysterics because a hedgehog had walked over her patio.

Wuff wuff wuff wuff wuff wuff wuff wuff wuff gurgle slosh gurgle slosh drip drip drip drip wuff wuff wuff wuff wuff gurgle slosh gurgle slosh drip drip drip drip drip drip squealch squealch wuff wuff drip drip….

And then he asked if dinner was ready yet.

Still, I had my revenge. On Monday afternoon, the dogs and I had enjoyed a lovely long walk on the beach, paddling in puddles, wading through crisp autumnal leaves as we very slowly wended our way home through the village. Arriving home, I found Richard sat on the dustbin in the drive. Having forgotten to take his keys with him, he found himself locked out. The stone front step was cold on his derriere, so he’d laid the bin on its side and sat down to wait – for nearly two hours.

evil chuckles!!!!!!!

A big thank you goes to everyone who made the inaugural scheduled chat in the Circle of Hands chat room such fun! Who would have thought the gathering would have lasted for over three hours? It was a pleasure to chat with such eloquent and creative people.

Another will be scheduled in a few weeks time. I’ll let you know the date and time in due course.

Meanwhile, sometime today my niece is due to arrive! Tomorrow, she has to attend an induction day and her parental home is too far from the venue to enable her to arrive on time. So she’ll be travelling from here instead, which will make things easier for her. And then she’ll be back at her own home to finalise her plans to move into The Big Wide World and university life.

When I left home, my worldly possessions consisted of two small pans, one kitchen knife, a pile of books and cassette tapes, an acoustic guitar (which I never did learn to play), six cups, six plates, zealously guarded sheets of poetry, a spider plant, an alarm clock, one bar of soap, two pairs of shoes and one bin-bag filled with clothes. Oh, and a new duvet.

My brother Eric presented me with a cardboard box. He said something like, “These things might look odd but you’ll find them useful.” Inside the box was a screwdriver, a light bulb, string, a DIY manual, a box of matches, a small torch (with batteries), a hammer, spare fuses, packs of nails and screws, and a week’s groceries. There was also a packet of chocolate digestives. He said I’d eat the lot within a week then have a fright at the price when I came to buy some more. He was right. This cardboard box contained what was by far the most useful present I’ve ever received! (Thanks, Eric! I still have the screwdriver!)

Travelling to my new job was simply easier from my new home than it had been from my parental home. And I was nineteen years old – just a few months older than my niece is now – and ready for independence. I was offered free use of a dilapidated Victorian house in return for keeping an eye on the place until the owner organised its renovation.

Funny how she didn’t mention the ghost who shared the place also….

*chuckles* Can you remember leaving your parental home for the first time?

Hubby hits the Big Four-Oh today!

He's hiding in his den at the moment, playing a Rolling Stones concert at full blast. He's probably trying to hear them over the booming jets of The Red Arrows, who've been terrorising the local heron population.

Emily and I were watching the planes zooming around, trailing red and blue smoke and making big synchronised loops, etc. A flock of five grumpy herons from the nearby nature reserve came flapping overhead, trying to hide. Ten second later they frantically flew back again, chased by a red jet.

I spent the morning up a step-ladder, painting primer and undercoat onto the new plaster walls in the bathroom. I probably spent more time trying to fit the ladders round the basin and toilet bowl, so I could reach into awkward corners, than actually doing any painting.