The rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated...

I suppose the main reason is that I have Been Out. Three times in about two months, actually, and all to Durham Gala Theatre. In a vain attempt to Get A Life, I foolishly booked tickets for three different shows in October and November and, although I enjoyed all of them greatly, it has left me absolutely flat. Still, if you get the chance to see Marcus Brigstocke, Jeremy Hardy, or The Play What I Wrote then do go and see them because they are all - in their own ways - extremely funny.

I have done one important thing in between periods of recovery, and that was send off my swatches. In the end I sent three to Rowan, three to Interweave Knits, and two to Vogue Knitting. I've already had an acknowledgement card from Interweave Knits to say that the parcel got there safely, so Watch This Space.

We've also solved The Mystery of the Smelly Cat: every so often, Tigger has come in smelling pleasantly - but distinctly - of non-cat smells, like the incense I mentioned in the last post. Apparently he has taken to visiting a neighbour of ours, who has just lost her little dog. My immediate reaction was to go along and apologise to her, but the Warden for our block assures me that she's very happy to see Tigger when he visits, and that he's helping her get over the loss of Lady. Obviously it is from spending time in her house that he picked up the scents over which we then puzzled...

"I won't be long. It's baking day today, so I'll be back in a minute - smelling of cinnamon..."