The keyboard seems to be kaput. I can use half of it, so that’s all right if the only vowels I need are a and e. The biggest nuisance is that the space bar doesn’t work, so letters sound breathlessly rushed, unless I type one word per line. Or put a full stop between each word, which makes me sound like a robot.
Time to buy a new (waterproof) keyboard, I suppose.
The bishop came tonight. He prefers tea to coffee, is a splendid chap and all went well. I had no idea how many would turn up to the service and provided 70 communion wafers and counted the congregation anxiously in case I would have to scuttle up with reinforcements. 52 present, so, for once, no need to make a fool of myself.
I’m using my son’s spare computer at present. Yes, that’s the sort of son I have, and I’m grateful for it.
Sorry, this is dreadfully dull and once I’m back in business on a keyboard that doesn’t click, I’ll probably delete it and write something frightfully witty and entertaining instead. In the meantime, I’m trying to take a photo of the amazing golden pheasant, but he is a modest bird and turns his back on me when I approach, nonchalently clutching my camera and assuring him that all I want is to give him a handful of corn.
I’d like to see the pheasant, they are beautiful if rather stupid.
You could have used the broken keyboard to invent a whole new, avante garde, Joycean sort of language! Or, not.
NC Council are rubbish. Just be thankful you’re not trying to talk to them on the phone.
I’m still following him, he is wily for a stupid bird and only flaunts himself if I haven’t got a camera.
Gd]frends]were]treated]t]etters]a]bt]as]ths]s]