Today's Little Box of Bits.

I must ask Catherine (she’s the female half of the human custodians of my best friend, Nell the Sprocker Spaniel) whether she’s familiar with MBTI. It’s just that it suddenly occurred to me yesterday that the way she looks at me is the very spit of the infamous INFJ stare. When I was her age I’d never heard of MBTI, but she’s a lawyer and being aware of fringe theories is as necessary as being au fait with case law these days. It’s that kind of world.

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I also had my hair cut yesterday, and now I’m even more convinced that I’m morphing into Gollum. People with gold rings and big feet take care.

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You know the old phrase ‘out of the mouths of babes and sucklings’? It occurs to me that I don’t know what the difference is between a babe and a suckling. Or is it just another tautology like ‘in the wee small hours of the morning’? Will ask Google when I’m in the mood.

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I just wrote an unusually profound email to my daughter because I have the impression that she’s not at all happy. And when she’s not happy, neither am I. I’m a fretter.

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I did another two hours of particularly awkward and strenuous (and a little hazardous) clearance work in the garden this afternoon, and then fell asleep in front of the computer as usual. How many more times do I have to submit myself to this? It’s becoming a habit to develop a death wish every autumn.

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Off to have coffee, toast and jam, and an episode of the Channel 4 comedy, Black Books now because I need to lighten up. The morning depressions are back with a vengeance and I think it has something to do with the nightly dreams. (Day dreams are much easier on the mind because the conscious mind controls the content. If you want Mrs Thatcher’s effigy hanging from a gibbet, it can be yours in an instant.) And I do know it isn’t morning at the moment, but it soon will be.