April 15th, 2013


Inspecting A Church

I dreamed I was one of a group of students who had been sent to inspect a church. It was a Victorian church with grotty wallpaper and a font carved with comedy frogs. Our instructor told me not to be afraid to name the guilty parties. "But they obviously don't have any money," I replied.


Arising out of last night's episode of The Village.

We said "OK" in the 1950s but were aware of it as an Americanism (which was what made it so cool) and were frowned at when we used it. Would a Derbyshire hill farmer in 1916 (who hadn't seen a talkie or watched I Love Lucy or even ever met an American ) have had it in his vocabulary? I rather think not.


I was up early this morning and got to meet one of the mice that lives in the shed where we keep the bird food. It looked at me as if to say, "what on earth are you doing here at this hour?"- then scampered off. The mice eat the bird food but I don't really begrudge it them. What makes a bird any more worthy to be fed then a mouse?

(I have a soft spot for mice. A little stuffed sausage of white fabric called "Mouse" was my best friend through much of my childhood.)

I think they're field mice not house mice. They come into the house in winter and now the warmer weather's here (ahem) they've moved out again- all except the one I think may have died under the floorboards at the head of the stairs.