Getting out of a Jam

Met Maureen and Pat for lunch in The Signalman today, the quilt that Lorraine has been making for Beth over the last 18 months returned after Maureen had done some splendid work on it. Beth will have a quilt that her mother and grandmother both worked on; a treasure. The Signalman, noisy with a tables blokes wetting their whistles before heading off to the Brighton game (which they were destined to win 4-0 against Huddersfield). We all had rather good fish and chips with mushy peas and thick slices of brown bread. Hearty fare, and the chips especially good. Conversation with the barman who found out what type of potato the chef specifies, a particular kind of maris piper was the answer.

Home in the afternoon, for some sofa time, while with Lorraine's help was able to get through to Orange to find out what to do about some cyber bastards called called Jamster who were steadily charging me £1.50 for each unwanted text they sent me. The solution is to text 'stop all' to the number texts come from. Orange helpful but only after half a dozen attempts and listening to muzak for 15 minutes. Grrr.

Lorraine coughing and under the weather much of the day. Betty home briefly after working in Brighton for the day for her old drama school, before L drove Betty, and Maureen and Pat back to the station.  I started reading Blindness by Jose Saramago, which is not the best book for a hypochondriac, but interesting nevertheless. The Portuguese writer promoted a brief email swap with Mark Hill, who is in Portugal and finishing a book, which he has an agent and publisher for, which is fab news for him. I mentioned Pessoa, whose house I had visited once in Lisbon.

An email from Janet, saying Ken is making progress this evening.