No hunters all day. Cat's confinement in vain. We meantime fail to buy tickets for UK because travel co has had electricity cut off by electricity company; its paid bill has been confused with unpaid one of construction firm behind, and to date - two days so far - electric bureaucrats show no willingness to unscramble it. Such things happen here.

Sky clear, gold and blue evening, little wind. This is when exile seems better. In UK they're muttering about floods. Our art course should have started today but for disappearance of dearest artist friend. Grannyp in a mournful moment looks his name up in Google and finds he shares it with - among others - the non-existant perpetrator of an infamous chain letter, and another man who was not found when they tried to bury his wife alongside him in the same grave, in Pittsburgh USA. These all - like dear friend - seem a long long way from here. (But he's the only one regretted.) Grannyp