I've spent the day being grouchy and banging doors and making mental notes on what I'm going to say to Boss on Monday. Also going to my Saturday afternoon music group and being unusually asertive about the bits us first fiddles were playing execrably badly. But I was arriving at the beginning of the right bars more often than the other two. Although I think they played more notes right than I did.
I discovered a pleasing quote by Sir Thomas Beecham last night. "the English may not like music but they absolutely love the noise it makes".
Did the washing and thought grumpy thoughts about having plenty of time to sort out the house when I leave work. And slightly (well very) anxious thoughts about would I like to put a sign up in the village shop saying 'book-keeping, chaotic accounts a speciality'! even more anxious thoughts about going to the recruitment agency next door to work and saying 'yes I'm good with sage and I keep books quite well. Oh and I can play around with pictures a bit. And I used to be quite good with Excel. No I haven't any qualifications, well my last boss sacked me actually...you know, him next door'
Funny thing is, boss's accounts have sometimes been a bit of a burden. And I don't feel even slightly relieved of it.
Oh and I told Barney my news and he said Oh dear. Well you'd better start looking for another job then. Er, commiserations I suppose. Now that did make me angry! But then he cooked a very nice dinner tonight so I'd better forgive him I suppose.
Then I read a whole book (The Iron Tree by Cecilia Dart Thornton, very faery and folky and having star crossed lovers dying of a curse in spite of being jolly decent and revoltingly goodlooking chaps. Good bit of slush.)

The Williamson Park in Lancaster is really very beautiful.



Butterflies and Owls tomorrow and now I'm going to bed. I may spend tomorrow tidying EVERYTHING and playing my fiddle.
And composing something for Boss to think about.