The other evening I was sitting admiring the way the late sun was lighting up the bright red new shoots of the rose which climbs into (and is probably killing) the mossed cottage tree. Today I saw that the whole lot had been sheared off. It didn't take any detective skills to know that a deer has been in the garden. Rats. Yesterday's rose opened out like this.
More oh dear. I finished the pair to the socks that have been about a year in the making and have unaccountably made the second one longer than the first. Duh!
I finished Case Histories and then thought yes, very good but if you want to read a gripping mystery story it's not as good as Robert Goddard. Oh dear.