Good for you, Stilly. Clearing your filing cabinet(s) is one of the biggest favours you can do for your heirs and assigns. I still shudder at the memory of my parents’ papers, stashed and crammed into the strangest as well as all the obvious places in a large Edwardian-style house, and full of personal information I emphatically did not need or want to know.

The nearest smoke plume is passing well to the east of Perth County, so Stratford is as summer-lovely as ever. The theatres are doing boffo business to rave reviews, and the fine-dining restaurants are packin’ ‘em in. Every prospect pleases, and reminds me of all the reasons Edmund and I had for moving here in the first place. Now, if only I could convince myself to vacuum up the cat hair before it becomes an embarrassment, the inside of the house would be as delightful as the outside.

I finally hauled my toolbox up to the library-cum-music room and hung the large pictures in the wall space vacated by the departed bookcases. As usual, one change led to another until half the upstairs art had moved at least twice, most of it ending up back where it started, and the sofa had swapped spots with the library work table to allow sprawled reading with one’s back to the windows.

Now I really have to see about getting light-adjustable blinds for those windows, and having the room painted. That pale puce and aubergine purple colour scheme looks worse every time I look at it.