my daughter rang from leeds because she was upset about something with a friend, and before she'd finished i said it would settle down. she went quiet, then told me she knew that, but it was upsetting now. fair point. i had meant to make the trouble smaller and managed to make her feel smaller instead. i felt sorry about that, and a little hurt she thought i wasn't interested, though i could hear why. we stayed on the phone and i asked what had actually happened. she talked for a long time. i was pleased she had called me, even with the correction attached. later i wanted to check on her again, but left the phone alone for one evening.

walked up from the bus in a fine rain that looked harmless until my trousers were wet at the knees. the hill had me warm under the coat, so by the door i was both damp and rather hot, a combination sheffield offers at no extra charge. i changed before sitting down and the dry fabric felt unexpectedly good against my legs. my knees were stiff when i bent to pull the socks off, but easier once i had stopped trying to do it standing on one foot. husband brought tea and asked if i wanted the heating on. no, just the cup in my hands for a while. after looking at little screws all day it was pleasant to look at nothing more demanding than rain on the window.

the crime drama has given its detective a broken laptop and apparently that means he can discover any secret the writer needs within thirty seconds. my husband says i'm not meant to watch it as a repair estimate. i know, but i keep thinking about which bits of a story i accept without question because they're outside my own little patch. the hospital scenes probably annoy somebody else just as much. tonight i tried following who wanted what instead of inspecting the equipment, and the sister is plainly hiding something, unless they only want me to think that. i can leave a machine overnight when i'm stuck. fictional relatives, apparently not.