Life for Lola

Back on the subject of insects: at work, in our little room with tea and coffee making facilities, on the window ledge is the corpse of a dead wasp. I should imagine it speant its last days banging against the window trying to get out confused as to why it could not fly through. It made me think, what if we are all banging against glass in our lives oblivious to the fact that if we would only go in another direction we would be free? I shall stop now as I am beginning to sound like Jonathan Cainer.

Last night I had to place an urgent call to my wonderful mother. I had no idea how long to boil an egg to achieve a soft yolk fit for soldiers. She was out - no surprise there, dancing the night away in a village hall under tuition and, by the sounds of other members of her class, hopefully under medical supervision.

Unfortunately the ladyfriend's and my eggs were a little bit tough, I always seem to err on the side of caution (no bungee jumps for me). It made me realise my culinary skills need brushing up. I may be able to knock together a thai banquet with only a few hours notice but it means nothing if I can't make a light supper for a visiting invalid.

Pictures of glastonbury are trickling in by the way.