Dot’s birthday. I can’t reveal which one, obviously. The picture shows her lovely as ever. We are going out for a meal tonight with friends, which will be a bit tricky, as I am on a weight-losing regime. I’ve lost almost half a stone in a couple of weeks, which is quite pleasing. My stomach was getting much too prominent. Hope I can keep it up (the weight loss, not the stomach). I don’t really know what got me started; I must have caught sight of myself or something.

I went to see the nurse on Tuesday – not because I needed resuscitation after losing yet another chess game on Monday (I’m actually playing quite well, but cracking up at the death) – but because I had to renew one of my pieces of medication and they wouldn’t do it without my seeing a nurse. She was commendably thorough, making sure I wasn’t addicted to steroids and testing my blood pressure, which at 146/94 is apparently on the upper limit of OK. I shall resist any attempt to put me on blood pressure pills, because you can never come off them.

Dot left on Tuesday to do a school inspection in south Suffolk. She had considerable difficulty in finding her hotel in Sudbury, but was eventually led there by a man in a white van. I knew they must be useful for something. Appparently a very nice hotel, but she had to leave too early the next day to take advantage of it.

On the way home yesterday she got lost, somehow managing to get on to the A143 going south in the direction of Haverhill, which is pretty much the opposite of what she wanted to do. She rang me up and after we’d established where she was (not easy, because I assumed she was north of Bury) I managed to get her back in the right direction. Meanwhile the police were parked in our drive most of the day while investigating stuff nearby, which meant that when P & J dropped off Dot’s present, they couldn’t stop. The road was full of cars, probably because it was raining. It’s been pretty wet recently.

Incidentally, the forecast storms are still possible, though happily rather later than suggested. A look at the Atlantic charts reveals a couple of ominous, tight lows hovering in the vicinity of Iceland and Greenland.

On Tuesday I did a meal for four others without the aid of Dot, and it went quite well. Nothing tricky, of course. Just quiches, potatoes and salad, with a few extras. Good discussion etc.

Today I’ve been to Bally to help Joan hang some of her work with my poems. I like her work very much, and I’m quite pleased with the poems too. Rupert, Annette and Mike were also there, and Mike took some pictures of my feet to use as part of his illustrations to my prize-winning poem, The Island Grows on Me. He’s already tackled my head and chest, with alarming results. Can’t wait to see the finished work. Rupert is frantically trying to prepare for his exhibition of his parents’ work at the beginning of December. The Open Studios private view, for which we were preparing, is tomorrow evening. There may be a poetry reading. Who knows? Certainly not us.