1. Yes April, syphilitic bits will drop off now that you are resuming Facebooking. You have no-one to blame but yourself. And Facebook.
2. PatioPatch? Thank you for adding me as a Blotanical fav, but as I freely admit to being a bit web-challenged, will you ever drop me a link to your website so I can read up on your gardening jaunts? Exo!
3. My auntie is coming to visit next weekend. I am making new curtains even as we speak. (I'm not really; all evening I've been measuring and re-measuring, then measuring again just in case; cutting and ironing seams flat and pinning together and threading up my Toyota sewing machine and then decided I'd had enough so switched on Gardeners World Chelsea Special and indulged in an hour's horti-porn with a glass of chardy, then surfed on in to chat to you.)
4. My farming neighbours are having a party tomorrow night. We'll sit on straw bales and drink strange wine from Tesco's. So I've got my Bombay Sapphire in the freezer ready for what mercy boo and her Irish cousins call "pre-drinks." It's all over by 10pm. Farmers get up early, you know.
5. I spent this afternoon allegedly in a meeting with Public Health chums, but actually we lounged around the table talking talking talking, planning planning planning, then ordered chicken Caesar sarnies and a side order of chips (sent to the table in cappuccino cups?) and ended the Friday-afternoon-before-a-Bank-Holiday completely focused and ready to implement. Michael Bywater was right when he wrote in the Independent on Sunday 28 March 1999;
"At the college we were met by a wall of academic women: young ones and old ones and in-between ones, all gowned, some in their scarlet, and the gossip and chatter and disputation and anecdotes, and the smell and sight and sound of clever, focused, happy women which is the nearest we'll get to heaven on earth."