Well this has been a tough old day. Mainly spent writing a narrative of the events that led to Younger Daughter, her Husband living down here in a flat they can't currently afford, hoping that the person who reads it will see that they're doing their best, trying to do a good thing by taking in Grandson but struggling with H's MS and YD's mental health shit. Ach, it's a terrible tale when you condense it down to a side of A4 and the fear it generates with this bunch in power. So I'm not gonna write any more tonight, just wanted to pop in.

OK, so I went and had a quick spliff down in the garden, out in the damp, foggy dark. We've had clear skies and winds for a while, warm in the day but dropping a long way at night. Now it's cloudy and feels the other way round - chilly during the day but OK for standing around in at night, with a big cardie on. I'd like to note that when the American 'sweater' is translated into English, it's not just 'jumper'. That implies something knitted, that you put on over your head, which might also be called a sweater here or a pullover or any one of a hundred regional variations. A cardigan opens all down the front and is probably knitted but is never called a jumper or sweater. Or pullover, obvs.

Bet you're glad you read that.

OK, bed it is. Grateful for: getting first drafts of all that stuff done, broken the back of it, the weight is easing; cat finally accepting my bed time is not hers to command - I am not a human hot water bottle at her beck and call, I am a free woman; Canada has elected a handsome Prime Minister who's said to be decent - good, hope he keeps an eye out for my pal Bert (coooeee Bert, wavin' at yer!); art tomorrow and just did a short free vieo tutorial which I shall have a go at tommorow; one last sit in the garden

Sweet dreams of peace and love my friends. Thank you for reading.