It’s necessary to crack on with the auction catalogue. The part I enjoy is handling the china. I am mystified by the workings of cameras, don’t like taking photographs, I’m bored by editing them (just lightening and cropping them, I don’t alter the pictures otherwise), compiling the catalogue itself is a slog. But it all needs to be done unless I pay people, which would remove any of the small profit I make. So, as a paying hobby, I’m not sure I’m entirely on the right track – but clearly, there is something that keeps me going.

It is, of course, the porcelain itself. I’m trying to restrain myself, this year, from falling in love with too many pieces. I don’t need more stuff, I’m not really a collector and I’m not acquisitive. But my previously good form in all those regards is being seriously tested.

It is also the people. In 35 years or so, I’ve shared enthusiasm and knowledge and met so many lovely people. As with blogging, where I’ve made so many friendships, is the collecting field. The reason I don’t make much is because I keep my charges so low. I want to help people. Clearly, I’d not be at my best in the more cutthroat end of the business world.

Today, my business partner (I do wish the word partner were not ambiguous) brought a client, who’s also a friend of long standing, over – this was really a social call but also to see the china. I’m glad to say that he was very drawn to several items. He’s in his 90s now, but his enthusiasm is undimmed. Enthusiasm is such an appealing trait, isn’t it? I hadn’t put the labels on the pieces, as I hadn’t yet checked all the photos (I have six that I’m going to retake, I haven’t got immensely high standards but even those weren’t always met) so I’ve promised to invite him back in October. September is busy.

While they were here, the phone rang. It was the Rector, wanting to swear me in as Churchwarden, a job I’ve agreed to take on again as my conscience finally got the better of me, as Brenda has been doing it by herself for several years. I’d have not done so if I still had Lovely Tim, but there it is. We used to all have to go along to the cathedral and chant the swearwords, if you see what I mean, in unison, but that wasn’t possible during lockdown and, for once, the hierarchy listened to the minions who asked for the system to stay. It was suggested that Zoom meetings could be set up in the benefices, so that all linked parishes could do it together, but that went down poorly. Apart from Chris, who was having to read out all the official words and have them repeated by each of us, a job he was going to do 12 times, it was very little bother for the rest of us. On the other hand, I still have hanging over me (something I managed to forget about for several weeks) that I have to do a considerable amount of online Safeguarding training. I’ve done a lot of that over the years. One year, I took the training three times, for the high school. It’s considerably better delivered now, compared to a couple of decades ago, it’s very necessary but it’s still a tedious obligation when there’s so little new each year and one has to listen, which makes my attention drift, rather than read, which goes straight into my memory.

There was a fairly brief fad, some years ago, for putting children in different sets at school, depending on which sort of learner they were – Visual, Auditory or Kinaesthetic. I realised, doing the inevitable training on the subject, that Visual, at least, needed to be subdivided. If a picture tells a thousand words, I won’t learn anything like as much as if I read the thousand words. If someone reads them to me, I won’t learn a thing. Reading and doing work for me.

Of course, writing a lengthy blog post is a substitute for getting on with the rest of the work. And now it’s nearly 7 o’clock, so I can convince myself it’s too late to do it at all. So, thank you, blogging. I appreciate you.