Things are moving along slowly here at the Manor.

The tree is finally down. Actually, I decided to leave the tree and just remove all its branches. It looks a bit weird but it reminds me of Nelson’s Pillar after the IRA blew it up. I actually had some pieces of the pillar debris but they got lost in one of my house moves.

Leastwise the house is a lot brighter, and I mean a lot. And that’s before there were leaves blocking the light [and the satellite signal]. I was very sorry to see it go but consoled myself with the thought of all that carbon that’s about to be released when the wood is burned.

The laptop is still playing Lotto. I have given up trying to fix it, having done a few more factory restores. It works in both Linux and Windoze but it’s an effort to get into either. I’ll just have to live with its annoying vagaries. Apart from that it’s a really lovely laptop.

As I scribble, there is a bloke working on our boiler. We thought it was a simple part replacement but it transpires that the entire boiler was clogged up with soot. He’s vacuuming up bag loads of stuff that he’ll probably sell on to the Fingerprint Section of the Major Crime Squad.

Okay. He’s gone. And the house is going into thermal overload. It should keep Herself happy anyway.

So the only big thing left is the car test. I’m dreading that. Not the test: the getting up before dawn.

According to our Glorious Gubmint current restrictions don’t allow visitors, even in the garden. Not one. If I chatted to a neighbour over the fence I would probably be breaking the law. How that would cause mass deaths and disrespect for the HSE, I don’t know but the law is the law. Anyhows, in the last few days I reckon we have had around ten people around, from nurses and boiler people through tree surgeons [surely surgeons are medical?] to neighbours helping themselves to some nice beech logs and even just neighbours calling.

They are all welcome.

Fuck the regulations.