Sorry, keb, it’s not the church choir but the community chorus that’s in financial melt-down. But the same conductor was also the organist and choirmaster at my church, and abruptly now he’s not. With the community chorus gig collapsing around him, something happened with the rector and wardens of the church and that gig has now been yanked out from under him as well.

I have no idea what happened at the church except that it’s neither creepy nor criminal. The rector would say only “not a good fit”.

So that’s the last prop knocked out from under my life in Stratford.

The Brothers have agreed to help with the one part of the move that I have to handle myself and can’t do alone: moving the cats. The trip from Stratford to Ottawa takes at least seven hours by road (six hours of actual driving), and the cats can’t be left alone in the car while their human visits the loo. There’s an excellent “cat resort” near Ottawa where I intend to board them during the packing and the move, damn the expense.

Meanwhile, Marco the painter is still set to start work next week, which means it’s time for me to roll up the big rug and start shifting the furniture into the middle of that enormous room.

Stilly, you’re right about gut problems and low-carb eating. I have diverticulosis, a problem of 20 years’ standing, so I have to be very careful to eat enough but not too much of the right stuff, such as broccoli and red sweet peppers, while sternly avoiding the wrong stuff, such as beans. I’m just emerging from another seven-day belly-ache, this one caused by eating cheese without enough veg to help it along.

The fancy new electronic scale I got for Christmas tells me that excess body fat is not my problem these days, but my “bone mass” is verging on way too low. Better not fall down this winter, then!