Nothing much to write about

It has been the sort of day when the fit takes you to clean all the skirting boards, to wash the shower recess, and to scrub this and that. Feelings of virtues consequently seep through one's consciousness. Although why should doing a bit of cleaning make one feel virtuous, I ask? Never mind, enjoy it! Such feelings happen all too seldom.

I have done some washing and all the ironing. And started seriously packing for my holiday. There are some people in this world who can pack efficiently and who can accurately predict what they need while away, and what the weather will do. I wish that I were among their number. Alas, no, I tend to plan for all contingencies. Despite buying a smaller suitcase, I can see myself taking the larger one, and then having to heft it on and off trains, until I get to the group tour, when others will take over the hefting.

There is so much to think about when packing. I know people who are incredibly disciplined and who ALWAYS travel with small suitcases.  Presumably the weather follows their dictates. And fate, likewise.

Some time last year, when my daughter, grandchildren and I made an impromptu visit to the beach, sand got into my camera, and now it does not work any more. So I have bought a new and more high-tech camera. For some time I sat contemplating this marvel of technology, admiring it, and my fortitude of character in embarking on this foolhardy endeavour,  and then at last timidly took it out of its box, opened the manual, charged the battery, put in the memory card and switched it on. Then I took a while to reconcile the reality with the theory. The other day I took it back to the shop, and asked the nice man to explain it all to me. Which he did, so I feel slightly better informed. Obviously he had dealt with persons of my level of competence previously, so he told me all about it, recommended that I keep it in the simplest possible mode, and kindly washed his hands of me. I believe in making the fullest possible use of all the available expertise. That is what they are there for. I merely humbly supply them with some job satisfaction. I hope.

You'd never think I had borne and bred a fabulous photographer. I can't allow her father to take ALL the credit for her genetic inheritance. She must have inherited something from her mother.

I have almost finished the sweater I have been crocheting for weeks. I am not sure it is a total success and because it has an openwork pattern, I need to wear something underneath it. Sewing it all together was rather tedious. Now I just have to finish the edging. Alas, I have not yet been able to find another project to work on.

Last week, what with all the drama about the leadership challenge from the former Prime Minister against the current Prime Minister, I forgot to go to choir, and had a long conversation about politics with a friend instead. We both worked for our august political institution. I have to say I do NOT want a return to the former regime, for what seem to me to be good and sufficient reasons, but we all have to wait until the morrow to find out what happens next.

There are a few things I need to get done before I leave in about ten days time. It would be good if I could also wave my magic wand and fix the body politic, and STUPEFY some of the blathering journalists.

At least I can look forward to going to the opera in Turin.