Things I am not going to bore you with

I am not going to tell you about how my drive home yesterday, which should have taken 2 1/2 hours, took 5. 5 hours.

I am not going to tell you how much I hate the ^^&*^*$%$ A14 even though I hate it so much I would rather have dinner with Rupert Murdoch than go on it ever again. Even if the dinner was at one of those places where you have to eat sushi off someone’s naked body. And the naked body was Rupert Murdoch’s. No actually perhaps I don’t hate it quite that much. I nearly do, though.

I am not going to tell you about how, having triumphantly done an epic drive that took in most of Fenland, my Punto this morning gave up the ghost and the exhaust pipe dropped off and the oil filter just, like, exploded.

I am just going to be thankful that the exhaust pipe did not drop off while I was circling the outskirts of Ely which might have meant I never got home at all and had to start a new life in Chatteris, which I think might have been a challenge,

And I am going to show you some photos of Stuff I have just listed in my etsy shop because I think they are pretty. And then I am going to go and feed the huge birds who have become dependent on my nuts, and sit and stare into space. Then I might do a bit of crocheting. Probably will, actually.

Lavender bags. Small but very fragrant

I thought this was a cool photograph. Sadly this is not my chair. Also it is not my wall. So it may be difficult to repeat. Do you know what's just out of shot? An eager Husky

Please note use of space and shadow. Thank you, you may now go about your business

Wishing you all better transport luck. I’m never leaving Cambridge again, so that’s the end of my problems. Perhaps I may buy a horse and cart? I see no problem with keeping a horse in a small suburban garden with inadequate fencing, and I am confident it is not prohibited by any bylaws. I shall feed him carrots from the veg box and Polos.

*PS, breaking news! In my last post I was a bit worried that a box of left-handed gloves only might be difficult to sell, but apparently my cousin John has got a friend with only one arm who might want one! So John, tell your friend to go to Masson Mill for a marvellous bargain! (Only if it's his left arm, though. Just don't mention it if it's his right one. I don't want him to be disappointed).