I've been thinking about the card game, because I'm convinced I threw away the wrong card and my husband is delighted to agree. I can remember exactly what was in my hand until I try to explain it, then one of the cards seems to be in two places. He's after telling me that's not a strategy generally permitted. I know! What bothers me is that at the table I was so certain, already reaching before I'd properly counted what had gone. Now I can make either play look sensible if I remember the earlier hand differently. I'll ask the others Friday, though by then they'll all have improved their own versions too.

Our grandson showed me his picture on the tablet and said he'd drawn my house, with the two upstairs windows where they sleep when they come. I was some pleased he remembered, though he gave us a mountain behind the shed and a dog bigger than the car. Told him I loved it and asked his mother to send a photograph. After the call I had a little cry, not a terrible one, just wished I could have been the one sitting beside him handing over the crayons. His grandfather said the dog was about right. We looked at it again over supper, both of us enlarging the same silly picture.

That furnace of mine came on halfway through choir practice, just as everybody else was pulling cardigans closer, and there I was trying to turn a music folder into a fan without losing my place. Opened the top button and stood a little away from the woman beside me, poor soul must've thought we'd quarrelled. It passed while we were doing the awkward bit again, leaving my neck damp and the rest of me quite ordinary. On the walk home the air felt lovely for about five minutes, then I wanted my coat properly buttoned. Some nuisance, dressing for three different temperatures all on the same body.