After a day of not doing much because of an accidental very late night on Sunday, I spent time in the garden this morning while the house was between me and the sun - even so with the factor 20 on the showing bits. I dug up loads of comfrey and weeded the veg beds. Lifted a lot of the spreading geranium to clear a bed for bulbs like the bluebells from the wood where Mum's ashes were scattered. (They came up pink, but otherwise show all the characteristics of the native, not the Spanish invasive type.) Then I weeded the bed where I had grown the lettuces. Tomorrow I need to pot up my cuttings from my parent's garden, and the house where my grandparents lived so they can get a good root system before they go in the garden soil.

Then I had a bath, and have spent the rest of the day in a long frock chasing the cooler areas and having a snooze, before trying to make sense of my spending over the last year, which has fallen out of the habit of daily journal keeping. Last August, for example, I drew £100 out over a couple of days, but have not recorded any spending to account for it. Odd. It wasn't for the bent kitchen fitter, who actually wrote down for me what I had paid him.

Penny