Z doesn’t wear the trousers – even though they’re Z’s trousers…

The ladder wasn’t long enough to do all the job, so I’ve cut back the creeper from around the windows, upstairs and down, and will do the rest when I’ve got out the tall ladder and found someone to stand on the bottom step to give it stability.

I was in the supermarket the other day and overheard two women talking.  “What I can’t understand is how I lost two days this week,” said the younger one.  “I mean, what happened to Monday and Tuesday?”  “The question is, what do we mean by time?” said the older one.  There was a silence while we all pondered.

Russell went out this evening on the annual Common Inspection – two trailers of people were pulled by tractors.  There was a sudden downpour when they’d been out for a while and, though the weather cleared up, his trousers were still damp when he got home.  I suggested he change while I cook his supper.  He took a while and came down in trousers that looked a bit wrong.  Much smaller than the ones he usually wears, a bit short and they fitted him around.  “Where did you find those?” – he told me.  “H’m.  They’re mine, actually…” If he likes them, he might as well have them, I suppose, they’re a bit long for me and big too – but it seems quite wrong that he fits into a woman’s size 10.

A meeting today, when there was some relaxedly frank discussion about governorship plans and I do have a successor lined up and he’ll take his timing from me, with the expectation that I’ll carry on for one more year to see in the new Head, all being well.  If I have to duck out earlier, that’s ok.  I don’t have to feel that I’m letting anyone down.  Very reassuring.  I’m wonderfully supported by lovely people – who are also very good at the job.

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