Mrs Toad

Every night about 9.30/10pm she returns to our bootroom and the shelter of my gardening shoe. We assume that at some point she must leave to go and attend to toady business in the garden but we never see her go - only return. Last night had additional excitement when we found a small slow worm in the hall. Probably courtesy of Fruitcake cat but the slow worm seemed unmauled and intact and so was rehomed in the compost heap for safety.

I also managed to chip a molar last night (James Wong's carrot cake granola the likely culprit - that'll teach me to grab a handful in passing)  so this morning was spent in the dentist's waiting room waiting for a suitable gap so they could patch it up; fortunately it all got sorted far faster and less traumatically than anticipated. Then to Mrs S to finish the heathers. Z and I rendezvoused in Guildford to deal with a couple of retail necessities in the afternoon, then after an altercation with the car park barrier machine (I paid, it wouldn't let me out) back home.