So far I have made breakfast, watched TV, done some washing up and looked at some recipes on the web. It is time to start cooking new things. I have not yet done any writing or any planning. Fortunately I have 10 hours left today and 24 more tomorrow. With 34 hours left I don’t need to worry too much. Plenty of time . . .

Julia is out at the moment doing mysterious things. They probably aren’t all that mysterious, and I’m sure that she would tell me what she was doing if I asked. On the other hand, if I do ask she will probably tell me, at great length and probably while I am trying to do something else like watching Pointless.

W had a chat about tofu this morning. She thinks I am missing a nutritious treat but has agreed not to make me eat it any more. This counts as a victory in life’s struggle, and an example of why talking about problems is a good thing to do.

We are still in the middle of a pandemic and WW3 is still on the horizon, but yes, I feel that my dislike of tofu is more worthy of discussion.  If this were the BBC rather than a blog about random events in the life of a nobody, things might be different. It would even be different if I had any ambition to be a heavyweight blogger of international reputation, instead of just a heavyweight blogger. I keep meaning to read the diary of Nella Last and see what she writes about, but so far, apart from watching Victoria Wood on TV, haven’t done anything about it. She wrote 12 million words. I’m just coming up to a million. What a slacker!

Interestingly, her son Clifford, went to Australia after the war and has work displayed in the Art Gallery at Ballarat, a town which sometimes features in the blog Paol Soren. Small world, and all that.