bizarre

I had a really bizarre phone conversation with my sister yesterday. We were both multi-tasking. That is to say, I was lying on the floor doing my back exercises while watching a brilliant Dickens adaptation on television, and she was observing the two new roly-poly cats and occasionally talking to them. We'd be talking about houses, gardens, and general family stuff, and she'd suddenly say, 'Isn't she gorgeous, she's washing his ears!' Sometimes I didn't know if we were talking about the cats or the Sunshines. Then I sort of squeaked and she thought I'd put my back out again, but it was just because something unexpected had happened on television.

The TV adaptation was 'The Mystery of Edwin Drood'. Dickens died before it was finished, and he hadn't left any notes about how it was to go on. I read a 'finished' version of it years ago and wasn't convinced. But I loved this one. If Dickens hadn't intended this ending, he should have done. Brilliant.

Today's duck count included five mallards, three pochards, a little white duck which I think is an Aylesbury, a goosander, and a beautiful little mandarin. I should open a sanctuary, and Much can sell tickets.