Grr

Grr is for gremlins and I am beset by them. I've just been informed by a reader (thanks, Heather!) that the official Mistmantle site has been inflitrated by a Trojan. I've e-mailed Bloomsbury to ask them to sort it, but I recommend that you don't visit the site, or send anybody else there, for a week or so or until further notice. If Bloomsbury tell me anything, I'll pass it on. Pity the trojan if he meets Captain Lugg and his army in there. There are gremlins in this computer, too. My last post appeared without any paragraphs, and I've no idea how that happened. And it's running very slowly. Either, as Tony suggest, there's a problem with a server somewhere, or the hamster on the wheel has gone on two weeks holiday to Costa del Ninety Degrees in the Shade and decided to stay. To say nothing of the weather gremlins. There can't be any water left up there. (Note to ducks - that is not a new lake. That is the sports field.) (Note to clouds - this is a small island. If you keep moving for a few hours in any direction, you will find the sea. Rain on that.) Gr is also for Great Scot, and my heart broke for Andy Murray, who played brilliantly, but couldn't quite get past Federer at his most dazzling. If any of you have any connection with the ATP or the Murray folks, tell him he's my hero. It was a very close match of outstanding tennis from them both, and the Lion of Scotland was awesome. Come to think of it, if anyone's popping in on HM in the next few weeks, tell her it's time for Andy Murray OBE - with a view to Sir Andy in the future? And so I don't spend all this blog on grumbles - portentous - we got soaked while camping cauliflower - plant beloved of sheepdogs marigold - to wed for money, and finally, armoury - never mind, Andy, we still love you.