Blair Bitch Project

I'm so, so, so sick of it. I don't care who leads the Labour Party I will never vote for them again. But it's a good sign that I feel connected enough with the world again to be annoyed about it. The whole thing is about the ambitions of two men, and nothing else.

N goes off the some fab wee island in the Med on Sunday. Her family does a house swap around the Edinburgh Festival time with a Spanish politician and their part of the deal is getting the use of a house on some secluded wee island off Ibiza. Quite a good deal I think as you can get really cheap flights to Ibiza and then cross by ferry. Hard to believe that in March she was in agony with the tumour. Some late summer sunshine should set her up for a Scottish winter.

My hospital appointment is looming. I call it "my feel up", which is all it amounts to, plus a mammo on the good side. Unless I raise any aches or pains, which I'm not likely to as I like getting it over and done with as quickly as possible. Although last time they muttered something about bone density tests as the cancer drug I'm on thins your bones prematurely - oh joy!

So my garden watering duties are over, M. is back, but I'll be dog sitting for three weeks for N. I like having Basha as it's nice to have another girl in the house. Although 3 stone of dog at the back of your knees takes some getting used to. My dog sleeps in his own basket, but I can't re-educate B in three weeks. Also better get some piano practice done as I've been neglecting it with M was gone, and she always knows...

I've got an order for a big format version of my leek triptych for someone's new kitchen. Just need to get it to the printers on CD.

Better go, meeting Debs, my fantasy writer friend today.