Since the good Daddy will have finished his race at least half an hour ago, I’m slightly disappointed that he hasn’t yet told me how he got on. Perhaps he’s busy signing autographs and stuff.

Yesterday, I went to the village school Christmas Fair (all right to use the C word now that it’s December, I hope?). Squiffany and Pugsley both went to sleep after lunch, so it was getting latish in the proceedings when we set off and I didn’t buy much on the stalls. I put my name to a few things though, which proved expensive.

Some years ago, the Sage was asked to auction some items given for the fair – you know, the PTA muggins goes round local businesses asking for raffle prizes, and so generous are people round here that there were more than were really needed. The Sage suggested a silent auction would do better, as it would attract people all afternoon – that is, put sheets of paper out describing the lots and ask people to put their name and the sum offered on the sheet. It can become quite competitive. The then Head didn’t think much of the idea at the time, until a tableful of vouchers and prizes added a couple of hundred pounds to the takings.

So they’ve done it ever since. Tickets to the swimming pool, playbarn, zoo etc, vouchers from shops, tickets to an Ipswich Town football match, a couple of tonnes of gravel (a promise, it wasn’t dumped in the village hall), as well as actual goods, like a large teddy bear called Brian (a very naughty boy, I understand), a vase and other goodies.

I came away with a leather shoulder bag and wallet, both slim and suitable for wearing when cycling (this has been a minor nuisance up to now), a voucher from the pet shop and a crate of St Peter’s Brewery beer. Fortunately, I had my cheque book on me, as I wasn’t carrying £40 in cash. Dilly spent another £20-odd, so they did well out of us.

There were knowing grins when I strode out carrying my crate of beer. I haven’t, however, touched a drop as yet. It’s still early though.

Today* is the Las Vegas Marathon, and our good friend Badgerdaddy is running it. In fact, he has had to rein back from the full monty (which has nothing to do with nudity, necessarily, btw) and is doing the half, but this is no less worthy of excitement and enthusiasm.

All the best, darling.

*This is slightly postdated, hem hem

A couple of hours ago, I was in a most Filthy Temper. An hour ago, I was in despair. Now … sheesh, I’m over it. I’ll explain to the person involved – well, one of them – how she could better help me in future than to send a document in a format that doesn’t suit it and which took me nearly three hours to rejig it in a way that nearly worked, before I decided to cut my losses and cut’n’paste into a different thingy (fuck, sod and drown at birth bloody Microsoft Office, may I add, by the way) which the person’s predecessor had used for several years with no problem. Anyway, I’ll do it nicely.

The other person who has caused my ire and despair approached me a few weeks ago … no, that isn’t fair. The person who had been stuck talking to her greeted me with vast enthusiasm (a disguise for his relief) and mentioned the subject under discussion. I allowed, with polite enthusiasm, that it interested me too, only for her to enthuse that she was planning to set up classes in this subject and she was so glad I would like to join her. By the time I realised what she was up to, I had little chance of reining back, and my so-called friend had buggered off, grinning evilly. She rang this evening, asking for my email address to send me more info and ask which days I’d be free. I replied, truthfully, that it would depend week by week – I have both regular and irregular-but-no-less-important engagements. The annoying thing is that I might be interested in the subject, were a different person to arrange it, but I did not take to her, and I am known as a person who likes almost everyone.

Anyway, having done the cut’n’paste, I’ve still got the work to do on the document I would have had at the start which, normally being a job I hate, seems almost a doddle in comparison to the rest of the day, which included changing my grandson’s nappy. Fuck me! – that was a nasty one. If it were not for the Iron Grip of Granny, he’d have smeared it all over the bloody place too. The lad knows no shame.

You think I exaggerate? Ro has been joking to cheer me up (having previously said when, as a last resort, I asked him for help with my document, that it was in the wrong program altogether and he didn’t know – and he knows more about Bloody Microsoft Office than any poor lad should have to) and he usually lets me calm down by myself.