Gloria Bee was a mason bee who tried to build a little nest in a hole in the back of the telly which we used to keep in front of the (generally) open kitchen window. On the advice of a local bee expert I tried to dig out the nest and rebuild it in a plastic tube on the window ledge. It was, of course, an utterly hopeless mission. Plainly I managed kill all of Gloria's eggs, and days later, we found her, dead, under the telly. I believe she died of a broken heart, and to this day, the burden of guilt weighs heavy on me!
I watched footage of The Queen opening Parliament today and wasn't sure why this was happening so near to when MPs break up for their long recess. Surely the best time to set out what you're planning for the coming year is when the new term starts? Am I missing something? I'm sure this stuff used to happen in November...
Any more thoughts I might have had on this particular subject were entirely brought to a close by the Queen sounding a short "a". She actually read "enhance" the way that any self-respecting Yorkshire citizen would pronounce the word! I immediately tweeted my abject shock at the notion of The Queen forgetting how to speak her own version of English and was amused by a reply which said rather simply, "well Hannover is quite far North, isn't it? She sodding well ought to speak like a Northerner!"
I largely dodged the rain showers to get myself to Old Street, where I visited Philippa and her gang. It was a very pleasant trip, which has only just finished. Deia and I did sewing at the big conservatory table. Ah! The irony! I can barely thread a needle. We made a little cup thing which I covered in beads. It looked absolutely dreadful and Deia was plainly so unimpressed that she took herself off to watch a film, murmuring to herself as she left, "give me a shout if you need any help!"
We had baked potatoes for tea and Philippa gave me some brilliant steers on the Soho pitch. I have no idea how she manages to keep her mind so sharp and agile whilst bringing up two children. She's plainly a super hero.
The sun came out just before setting, which means the cloud cover has gone and it's bitterly cold as I walk home. The highest pity marks, however, have to go to Nathan, who Skyped me from his Leicestershire forest in what was plainly some sort of tropical monsoon. He took me on a tour of the set, which looked like something from The Poseidon Adventure. Poor thing was wearing the pac-a-mac I lent him and looked so dejected. Sodding rain!