Grasping the wrong end of the stick

Stressing this morning trying to work out what we needed to do about our deposit. I spoke to Natwest (useless as usual), but Lorraine got a clarification -- the money was notional and the deposit would simply pass up the chain. Not having to find tens of thousands down the back of the sofa is a relief. I got the wrong end of the stick like an utter chump.   

Nice to have Lorraine working from home today, and I happily did a few bits and pieces of writing.

In the evening I met Anton for a few beers, starting at the Batty. A good deal of breeze shot, and we stopped at The Windmill for a bite of South African food, and then dropped off at the Crescent and The French Horn where we played a card game called escoba in a spirit of harsh competition. 

Sauntered home across the park in the dark and after munching some toast crept into bed.

Below the purple magnolia tree outside Anton's house mysteriously blooming for the second time this year. Anton playing escoba.