I'm a bit squeamish and don't like seeing the picture of that poor dead chap - or possibly lady - so though I don't think I have anything particular to say, I'm replacing him/her with a photo of my darling Daughter 2. The only other picture in this folder in Picasa is one of our 2010 Christmas cake. I think she may be about to cut this, hence the raised hand and somewhat "Aha!" expression on her face.
She's coming up to Edinburgh again at the weekend to search out a wedding dress. This time we're trying dressmakers. Keep your fingers crossed for us.
I've just been watching some of her actor fiancé's friends on a tv improvisation programme. I imagine that some of them will be coming to the wedding, which I find rather alarming. They're all very witty and smart and poor Mr Life's going to have to make a speech in front of them.
I felt very unsmart this morning when I was standing at the bus stop, replying to a text from Daughter 2. (This is my new phone - I decided that I needed one with a camera in preparation for being a granny in July. All my granny friends show people phone photos of their grandoffspring. I mentioned one Friday evening to Mr Life that I was thinking in terms of a cameraphone, and the next morning at 9 we were in a phone shop. Mr Life likes gadgets.
I can't really claim to have mastered this device. I can manage texts (though don't know how to delete them) and can phone people, though haven't yet got used to the doorbell-like burble that it gives when people are phoning me. Indeed, I tend to ignore it, merely wishing that whoever owns that phone would hurry up and answer it. Then I realise that it's mine.)
Back to the bus stop. Mid-text, I must have touched a wrong button and Radio 4 started bellowing out of the phone at me. I kept frantically pressing things, without result. I continued to regale the bus queue with the "Today" programme. Eventually I had to ask a young man if he knew how to stop it. He did.
I warned you that I didn't have anything to say. Still, it's a nice picture of Daughter 2, don't you think? How I miss her.