Today's Stuff (and Queens.).

It’s an odd fact that, despite there still being three months to go until Christmas, I’ve had The Pogues & Kirsty McColl’s Fairytale of New York going around in my head for hours. And it keeps resting on that bit of dialogue which runs:

‘You were handsome.’

‘You were pretty, Queen of New York City.’

And then I remembered that I know the Queen of New York City personally. I do. She isn’t called Elizabeth or anything as boring as that, nor even anything as twee as Griselda. I considered posting a picture of her, but was concerned that:

a. I might hear the dreaded words ‘Off with his head.’

b. I might get sued by the New York photographer who holds the copyright.

Intrigued, aren’t you? Or maybe not.

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I finished trimming the longest and toughest of my boundary hedges today, and now I have sticky buds all over my sweater. (They’re the seeds of the prolific goose grass, in case you didn’t know.) Even a powerful vacuum cleaner won’t get them off; they have to be picked off laboriously one by one.

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There’s a tiny, unidentified insect walking across my office desk. It happens a lot.

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The polling booths in the Scottish Independence Referendum are now closed. If the decision goes the way of ‘No,’ I fear there might be trouble on the streets of Glasgow over the weekend. All the deluded Braveheart disciples seem to be on the ‘Yes’ side, and they weren’t reluctant to offer abuse and a little violence even before the decision was made.

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The little piece of woodland about 100 yards from my house was sold at auction yesterday, and I learned this evening that it was bought by the man who lives next door. It was quite a relief, believe me, but if I say any more I’d probably be accused of having an -ism.

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The Duchess of Cambridge has morning sickness again. She’s called Kate, and expects one day to be Queen of England and whatever else is left of the Union.