H is watching something called My House. He has just asked me, "who is this bloke? Isn't he from the Hairy Mondays?" I have a butcher's and I'm guessing the bald bloke in question is Shaun Ryder.

Let's just say we got quite emotional at the Killer Tomato Festival, what with all the delicious food and the presence of the local mayor et al. We decided to refrain from the tomatoes as I have enough growing on the huerto and decided to buy some lovely goat's cheese, which goat we are not sure, some tinned tuna, not any old, plus some local type of bread that we carried round swinging in the air, proudly displaying the origin via the bag they put it in. Then onto a couple of taverns and finally dinner resulted in us leaving said bag of delicatessen behind on a chair but not to worry!! One of the waiters located us still going strong, outside some other bar and politely informed us that said goods were now languishing in the restaurant fridge and we could pick them up tomorrow. I love having faith in the human race!

If you ever visit us you will notice there are plenty of books lying around plus lots of notebooks and pieces of paper with ideas, jokes, schemes, half finished film scripts and novels and so on. On top of this I write letters to people. I sometimes send them but they often end up being burnt in a dramatic manner thanks to some advice my mother gave me years ago regarding cleansing your soul from other's bad vibes and protecting yourself from psychic vampires. Good ol' mum! However, it is not a nice thing to come home to said pieces of paper before they are consigned to the funeral pyre and thinking that maybe, just maybe they are directed at you.  I got a phone call while chilling out down the huerto from none other than Mr van de Ven. His voice was faint and not his usual exuberant self. ''Is this addressed to me?'' he asked. ''Dear arsehole, YOU SUCK ALL THE JOY OUT OF EVERYTHING, have you ever asked or wondered why your life is like this? You know, one shitty drama after another, and then you have the nerve to say to me.....(indecipherable)...who are you all of a sudden? F#cking Buddha?'' He thought, mistakenly, that he had found a so called Dear John letter. You know, a letter writtten to a man by his wife to inform him their relationship is over. Suffice to say it was not directed at him. If it were I would be long gone. Who was it directed at? Well, all will be revealed. If you wanted me to write something nice about you then you should have been less of a c#nt. 

LISTEN CAREFULLY

There is a spider who lives in our bathroom. He or she has lived there or rather successive generations have lived there for about twenty years. This morning I thought, ''I haven't seen that spider or its descendants for a while''. I haven't seen it since before the pandemic. It used to hide in the towels and make me leap with fright every time I went to dry my hair. I'm not really scared of them but don't exactly want them getting rubbed into my head. I am not one of those people who has to kill a creature just because it has decided to move in. I have a lot of respect for those tiny so called beasts that live mostly out of sight. Spiders are supposed to be a sign of creativity, of feminine power but can also be seen as a sign you have been deceived and caught up in a web of lies and deceipt which I have recently. So it should come as no surprise that just now I saw it just above the towel rail.