Smoke gets in your eyes

Ned went back to work last night after eventually being paid and I spent the evening wrestling with ebay – reasonably successfully. I’m sure I’ll find I’ve made some catastrophic blunders, and we’ll end up losing out. Ho hum. I also started trying to transcribe an old diary from 1857, but it’s written in pencil and is very faded. It makes my eyes go all squinty.

This morning I went into Leamington and failed miserably at a) finding a new collar for Piglet and b) signing on. If that cleric who’s fled to the Lebanon can live here for 17 years on benefits, I’m sure I can manage a few months. (They told me I need to phone up to fill in a form then they give you an appointment to go and complete it or something. It seems much more complicated than it was in the 70s. I’ll try again after the weekend, unless we win the lottery first.) Then this afternoon I set some rice to boil for Clover because she’s got the squits, had a senior moment and promptly forgot about it until the smoke alarm went off and woke Ned. I hope it’ll be possible to rescue the pan because it’s the only one the steamer fits onto. But it’s good to know the battery in the alarm’s still working.

Can anyone remind me what I should have bought to take to Cropredy tomorrow? My mind’s gone completely blank.

Today’s Zen thought: If a man stands in a forest talking and there’s no woman to hear him, is he still wrong?