Sorry about the change of ink, + of pen width, but my not so very trusty Bic Fine Point has run out on me. It’s quite amazing. Back home I never used anything but Bics, + I don’t ever recall one running out on me – they always got lost first. Now, I don’t seem to keep one of the pens going for more than a few weeks. It’s most frustrating. However, time is rather of the essence at the moment, since I am several days behind with this account. Or diary. Or story, whichever you prefer. So I must stop prevaricating + procrastinating + press on.
November 30th. Work today of course, but not very satisfying work because there were a number of bitty little jobs where one feels one isn’t getting anywhere. Raking stones, scraping up leaves, clipping grass (with remarkably inefficient clippers) – nothing that one could look back on with satisfaction + think that that was a good day’s work. Still, I persevered till 6 – no bar work for me, tho’ Val had to work. A hearty meal for me tho’, since Sue had given Val some chops. She’s had them in the fridge for a few days, + so was now a bit nervous about them. Silly woman. They were enormous, + should have been very tasty, except that I didn’t cook it enough. Still, I had plenty of mashed potato, + tho’ I certainly couldn’t do without meat, it’s the vegetables that I like the most. Once dinner was out of the way, the rest of the evening just flew by. One plans to do so much, yet there’s so little time. That’s probably true of life too.
Not sure about my food hygiene here – that’s old chops plus insufficient cooking. Hm, I seem to have survived.