Blogger the Dunce

Breathing deeply here. This post is brought to you with some difficulty. I've been trying to post pictures, taken today, of our garden in the sunshine. This is so that our kind catsitter, who arrives tomorrow, can see evidence that it doesn't always rain here. Not that I know it's going to rain during her stay. But it might.

However, Blogger is refusing to cooperate. I've always thought of Blogger as a kindly, if mysterious, benefactor, who gives you free stuff for no reason that I can see. I thought it was rather unreasonable to complain when the free stuff sometimes went a bit wonky. However, I'm beginning to turn peevish. First Blogger wouldn't do paragraphs without a lot of footering; then it made my blog look like an eye test by mucking about with the font size; now no photos. Come on, Mr B.

Scott says that I should move to Wordpress but he clearly underestimates my technical incompetence and cowardice.

Sirius isn't helping by doing his blog routine: I sit down to blog, he runs through to me in the study, squeaking interrogatively, I stroke him, I then start to type again, he scratches my chair until I start stroking him again...etc etc.

There's nothing like an impending house guest to make one look critically at one's house, especially at this time of year, when it's eight months since I last had any extended time to do extensive cleaning. I spent the morning at the dentist (Dentist: "I don't think we have many options with this tooth") and then at hospital with my mum, having her foot x-rayed (Mum: "I think I'm in trouble with this foot") and then at Marks and Spencer getting her some trousers (Mum: "I don't like to think why I'm losing weight" - she's now a size 8, which is something like a size 0 in America. I would love to be a size 8, personally). She's always been very slim, though not quite as slim as this.

So I must go and wield the duster now. Not to say give Sirius some Purina to stop him pestering me. At least he's not worried about the size of his trousers.