Spring

The Vernal Equinox is past; I recently found out that the sun rises half an hour earlier in Norwich than it does in Plymouth, and that the railways are responsible for GMT; also that Christchurch College in Oxford has resisted all blandishments to conform and is still using local time.

Three months of playing poker in the pub have gone well; won outright once, and finally got to the end of round 4 on the software poker tournament. Proof on file!

The dining table has six piles of assorted paper on it, representing six months of unclaimed expenses and the funding for me to get really silly and start playing poker for pounds not points.

Terrific news is that Mark, having waited the longest time, has now got three jobs on offer; one certain, one with crossing fingers, eyes and legs; one left-field independent with a safety net and sky-high limits. That, my imminent escape from this nightmare project, and Paul having full-time work for a few weeks even if it is crucifyingly minimum wage which is TAXED ffs!

Sad and not good news, ouch: I know Sid will read this, and that awful rule of three only just occurred to me. His mother is extremely ill, and he is doing a lousy job of being uncaring. I need to call my mother to talk to her about my aunt, and my ex-father-in-law, both of whom died in the last week.