'The Fonts' desktop goes wrong. The second time its broken down in less than a year. After a series of calls to the after sales helpline a technician arrives. He's due here at noon but shows up at three and spends four hours taking the machine apart. He appears in the kitchen saying it's too complex for him to put together again. He goes. Nothing more is heard. After another series of calls the helpline says someone will be there to pick it up in the next twelve days. '' Working days " adds the gentleman in Bangalore lest I foolishly think he means twelve calendar days.
In the little market town they're disassembling the stylized Christmas tree. There are three council trucks , a crane and no less than eight workmen. The process of disassembling is leisurely. Bob has enjoyed christening the tree during its festive presence. He will be sad to see it go.
The unemployed gentleman who opens the door in the market hall in return for a 'gratuity' has reappeared. Two affable and lively dogs have joined him. His last two dogs were killed in a freak electrical fire and he was hospitalized. While their master goes inside to get a bag of scraps from the butchers the dogs sit waiting patiently. When he returns they become bundles of tail wagging joy. They share the scraps of meat straight from the plastic bag. Perhaps life as a companion of a ' carefree ' human has its advantages.
A few more shoppers appear in the greengrocers.
I open the door to the side garden to let Sophie out. At that very moment a cat leaps onto the garden wall. Sophie chases after it. What a turn of speed she displays ! Life with a dog recovering from leg surgery requires constant alertness. She looks at me as if to say '' So what ! ".
A record of those little things too unimportant to be recorded in a diary but which, at the time, make life - life.