All is drear dread dark here in the North. Cold, cloudy, gloomy. No bright shiny fabrics and no beautiful new living rooms to cheer me up. Ah well! I made discreetly globular 'Sale' signs with holly for the window and they look quite Christmassy, not at all closing-down-sad, and I'll put a baubly-sparkly tree with them this weekend. The nice woman who wants to buy my books would like me to pack them all away now until she has sold her house but quite understands that I have to try to raise some of the ready to pay for presents etc. so we will re-negiotiate when she's got some money together herself. It's nice to think that the books will all, one day, find their way onto shelves in new shop even if they aren't sold here. In the meantime I have had some good sales, noteably a very large book of erotic paintings and drawings with a huge breast fondled by a very white hand on the cover that has embarrassed almost everyone who has ever picked it up. It was sold to an embarrassed bloke who put all his other novels on top of the breast to bring it to the counter. I whipped the books off - sadistic bitch that I am!

G'son (transient synovitis again: 'he'll grow out of it') is hirpling about on crutches, not making a very good fist of resting his hip. He's either in such pain he has to have knock-out pain relief or he is fidgetting about praticing going up and down stairs fast. At least we have him home and don't need to sit in a ward trying to think of something to do or say. Sewing would come in handy at that point. Maybe I could teach him to knit.

For a whole day I didn't switch on the iMac - I think it felt neglected.