Got an idea for the Christmas window involving a tiny haberdashery inside the haberdashery, with miniature customers arguing over even tinier buttons, and now I can't stop adding details. We'd need a little counter, a proper measuring tape, possibly a sheep looking offended by the price of wool. My partner asked whether anyone walking past would see any of it, which is a very irritating practical question at this stage of genius. Perhaps the whole thing has to be bigger. Or just one enormous button? No, that's lost the story. I've drawn both on the back of a quiz sheet and the big button looks like a wheel off a tractor, so there is still some artistic development required.

Band practice was excellent until we reached the bit where you're apparently meant to possess enough air for the entire phrase, rather than my preferred system of starting confidently and hoping some more arrives! Came off with my lips buzzing and tried explaining a quiz question to my partner while half my mouth still belonged to the cornet. She understood about four words and one of those was PUB. Fair assessment. Had a mug of tea and sat quiet for a minute because making noise had actually become a physical effort, a rare medical event in this cottage. By the time she'd put her shoes away I was ready to tell her the whole rehearsal, including the bit she'd already heard through the wall.

The retired lady from haberdashery came in, looked at the new display and said she'd never have put those colors together, then paused LONG enough for me to start mentally dismantling the entire thing before adding that it worked very well. Honestly, she could charge for suspense. I was chuffed to bits and showed her three other things she'd not asked to see, while she kept trying to get to the buttons. Eleven years on the floor and one good word from her still does that to me. Told my partner on the way home and she said lovely, so I told her exactly how it was lovely. She'd heard me the first time, apparently. Not always easy to tell with quiet people.