A Miscellany of Moans.

I’ve been having computer problems tonight. They’ve been getting worse ever since I had this computer in January. It’s all software, of course, and the retailers specify that their warranty doesn’t cover software.

Why don’t computers just work properly? Or maybe other people’s do. Technology and I just don’t get on.

The rain is lashing the south-facing windows, and the wind is moaning mournfully in the chimney. In July.

And two of the wooden wall panels in my greenhouse fell out this evening. I had to go out in the gathering gloom and nail them back on again. I had visions of squirrels getting in and wrecking the joint. They do that sort of thing. I hear there’s a little known conspiracy theory that they’re really highly intelligent beings who are planning to take over the world. I think it only applies to the greys, though – they’re the American imports. They came with McDonalds (no, they didn’t.) Proper British squirrels are fluffy little red ones with tufty ears. They’re almost entirely confined to northern Britain these days. Uncle Sam Squirrel has done his collateral damage and now holds all the land from about north Lancashire south. I suppose it serves us right for running down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.

Why am I talking about squirrels? Because I’m in a bad mood. I have an uncharacteristic ache in my left hip. What’s that all about?

The wind is moaning more mournfully than ever. I think I’ll have an early night.