Clearly, there had been a mouse. It had eaten enough of the pipe for it to fall apart. Worse, it had eaten the place where the pipe went into the dishwasher, so that the plumber couldn’t attach a new part. It needed the dishwasher guy. I phoned yesterday afternoon and explained and was promised a call back.

Fantastic service. I got a call, asking if lunchtime today would suit, but it wouldn’t. Wink and I were going to be in Norwich for a lecture about Frida Kahlo, I’d invited Rose to join us and to have lunch there. So, when I’d said that I’d be out from 9.45 until about 2.30 – though I didn’t fuss or ask a favour – I was promised that I’d be fitted in early. Jaden arrived about 9, sorted out the problem and stayed long enough to be sure that the machine was working okay. It hadn’t been the plumber’s fault that he couldn’t do the job and at least he sealed off the pipe where it met the kitchen sink drain pipe, so I was able to catch up with the washing up. Although the mouse had done a startling amount of damage and water must have gone down underneath the suspended wooden floor, Jaden said that it hadn’t happened long ago, it might have just been a night’s work. I set traps and, after two nights, haven’t caught anything and there’s been no sign of a mouse otherwise, so it’s just one of those things to shrug shoulders and not fuss about. The charge was £65 for about 40 minutes’ work. The plumber will send his bill in due course, it’ll be a bit more but not unreasonable.

ECat has been told that it’s not her fault, she couldn’t have caught the mouse. Which seems to have left the house – unless it ventured out and she caught it and I’ll find it decomposing somewhere in a while.

Tomorrow, we’ll go to the lunch club I’ve been going to for over 30 years. My mum went and wanted me to join so that she’d have company on the journey and I just kept on going. I’ve nearly always been the youngest one there, probably even now apart from Rose, who sometimes joins us if she’s free. There are comings and goings but most of us are in our 80s and 90s now. For years, I have given a lift to Jo and Lilian, two sisters who live 9 miles away – in the wrong direction, but it doesn’t matter. Jo died, sadly, of Covid, which she caught in hospital two years ago, but Lilian copes very well for someone who’s coming up to 95. Another friend, Diane, is getting a bit anxious about driving far now, at the age of 87, so we do an extra detour to pick her up too. Afterwards, we take Di home and then drive Lilian to Tesco’s so that she can have the treat of doing her own shopping.

A few years ago, I was driving Lilian and Jo home and Rose was with us. It was December and I asked what they were doing for Christmas? “We’re going to die,” drawled Lilian casually. Startled, I said, “say that again, darling?” “We’re going to Di,” repeated Lilian. We managed to smother our laughter, Rose and I, but it still bubbles up, once in a while.