Rattle, bang, rattle. Wind is back. Yesterday it was easterly and warmish. Today has returned to easterly but much more furious. Birds blown about, wispy cloud blown about, granny blown about. Much more of this and the locusts will be blown our way from Mauretania. And then what? Even on an island the world catches up with us - we have our very own mafia according to the chief carer. They organise the beating up of helpless but rich ancients like the Texan millionairess, the Attic Woman's housemate.

In any case, a mere 40 miles of choppy sea separates our island from Africa - on the far side of which Americans are beating up Iraqis and Iraqis are beating up each other, the limbs of the wretched Margaret Hassan are thrown to the dogs like Jezebel's, and children are denied access to hospitals and painkillers. Get on the internet and read all about it. Even get the horrid pics and videos if you want. 'The new theatre of cruelty' says granny's journalist friend on the phone last night.

What a world. Still Biblical and Koranic cruelties. Nothing changes; even in rock pools. All sides end up dead. And most likely not in any non-existent heaven. (An octopus heaven? Heavens!)

4 small ripe figs from one of her trees another sign of the strangeness of the world this year; a third if not fourth crop, though small. Granny sinks her teeth into the sweetness of one fig, and tries to forget yet another restless night contemplating horrors. Rain is forecast next week at last. Good.

Beloved is experimenting with bread. Yesterday the bread had cardomum in. Today coriander. Granny points out it doesn't go well with breakfast marmalade. 'I don't eat marmalade' says Beloved. Of course not; he's diabetic. Granny is not diabetic and when she doesn't breakfast off healthy muesli quite likes the taste of her own, very dark, very bitter marmalade - made with Seville oranges carted from London - but not when offset by cardomum; or coriander. Let alone chilli..

Wonder of wonder, Telefonica came yesterday as promised. Only problem: they couldn't sort the problem and went away again. Granny still cuts off her phone by writing this. Grannyp