I uploaded a couple or three photos (free) to a site (that sells the image for you) donkey’s ages ago and yesterday I got an email saying they had sold one of them. I had forgotten I had even done it so it was a bit of a surprise and even though it isn’t much money it was kind of nice that someone liked one of my photos enough to pay for it. So that was a nice thing.

Every morning I am expecting to wake up see my Acer denuded but so far, and with only another two days to go until the next Open Thingy, there is still enough foliage on the tree to make it look like a tree. It’s sparse but it is at least leafed. The shock of the long hot April was too much and it has been shedding for a few weeks. It is tough enough to recover I think but the timing is a bit off. But then all the other things in the garden that are usually looking grand at this time of the year have been and gone. You just can’t predict nature and shouldn’t try.

I had not expected to get into BB (well wasn’t Emily a silly girl! That won’t help advance her career much) this year. By that I don’t mean into the house, I wouldn’t last five minutes, I just mean into watching it. It’s the time of year though when I am out every night – rehearsing or dancing – and BB is the only thing that is easy to follow at any time of the day and requires no mental exercise. Chewing gum for the eyes. Mind you the harsh and strident tones of Charley and Shabnam make for not altogether pain free viewing. Yesterday as I was watching them all lying in a row cooking themselves in the sun I felt suddenly claustrophobic and thought how awful I would find that to have nothing else to do other than be TV toast. *shivers*. And how do women manage to talk for hours about hair straighteners – or any of that stuff – I am with Tracey and Lesley on that one.

For some unknown reason - and presumably because they haven’t done their market research properly - Sainsbury’s have sent me a copy of Grazia. Well, it saves me buying toilet paper. What a load of rubbish. I turned the pages in a mixture of irritation and disbelief at the so-called celebrities of our time. I do wonder what Mrs Becks will do when she is old and ugly, or ugli-er, as she has no substance. Apart from being an even more unattractive clothes horse I can’t see that she has much to fall back on. I should never have opened it in the first place, I does no good to dwell on the sad and pathetic emptiness of the lives of those with too much money. The gold of my nature will be immeasurably tarnished if allow myself to think any longer about such trivia.