I had a dream last night that I got sunstroke from walking down the tow-path without a hat on. I woke up still feeling woozy, with a cat wandering around on my stomach. The garden needed watering again; these dry springs are strange. Of note recently:

I baked a loaf in a casserole pot, like it said I should in the amazing bread book. The pot handle exploded in the oven, leading to a quest through the various replacement options available and agonising decisions like, Le Creuset? Or knock-off Le Creuset? The replacement fitted fine, but now timscience keeps getting suggestions from Am*z*n that he might like to buy more pot handles. I don't know, Am*z*n. Some things you only just need one.

I discovered cardboard boxes of fresh dates for sale in my local greengrocer (the same one I get random plants and smoked garlic from) and my lunch box as a result became both more and less healthy. This week it's been dates and olives (there is a token sandwich in there too) after the Maroc deli turned out to have good deals on both. Between the oil and the sugar, I'm not altogether convinced of the health benefits, but we'll see.

Spring on the tow-path:



But I have seen neither swallows nor ducklings yet.

The handsome grey tom-cat that has moved in across the road was starlted by Tim in the greenhouse, and in a state of abject (and wholly unjustified, but hey, cats) terror, exited dramatically via a pane of glass, neatly breaking it in two, knocking a sundial base askew and fled the garden at top cat speed. He was fine; the following day I saw him unconcernedly sitting on the patio steps. Not a scratch. The greenhouse is fine, too, having had a spare pane slotted into it. It's all drama.