The first one is that the bantam didn’t make it through the night. I put her in a nestbox yesterday evening and, this morning, she was dead on the floor.  I did think she’d have another day or two, but it was simple old age and that was that.  Only the other day, she was giving one of the big hens what for, for eating food she fancied.  So, though there’d been a gradual long-term decline, she hadn’t been ill. But all the same, I’m really upset.  Poor little chicken, the last of our bantams.  Rose has three hens and a cock, fortunately, but they hatched the year after Russell died, this was the last of his.

The baby Belling oven is fine, it’s just the rings.  So we haven’t turned the Aga on yet, though we will soon, I’m sure.  I’ve been drying more tomatoes today – some of them are still in there, in fact.  I’ve taken them out as they’re done, but some were very juicy.

I’ve typed up nearly half the lots for the catalogue, but I completely lost heart around half past five.  I was tired and headachy and rather cold.  But I had a cup of tea and a bath and lovely Tim cooked dinner and I’ll do the rest tomorrow.

Other news – you may remember my lovely friend and colleague Mary, whom I’ve mentioned before.  She and her husband moved to Llangollen last autumn, to be nearer their children, both of whom were based Manchester way.  Her daughter had her first baby yesterday and darling Mary is so happy.  She found it hard to leave this area and it’s taken her a long time, not so much to adjust to their new home but to reconcile herself with leaving their old one; but obviously this changes everything.  The new arrival is a little girl called Elspeth.

I think that’s about it, darlings.  More figs to pick tomorrow, the catalogue to be worked on and … oh, I’ve just remembered.  I was very pleased with my latest loaf, which had risen really well.  And then Tim sliced it up for the freezer.  There was a socking great hollow part in the middle, which was why it looked so stupendous.  Hmm. Back to the kneading board.