My computer is largely up and running again - of course there is still the issue of getting all the stuff off the old disk - the data appears intact, just windows that fried. I have all the writing work backed up, but there are, of course, a myriad of other things, art for book covers, photographs, some music - the music I have on CD so that's less of an issue- except for the time involved.
On other delightful news my petrol pump decide not to work anymore (we buy petrol by the drum) but otherwise, life is just a bowl of bloop-berries. So now I will have to wrestle with the makers of my hard-drive, and with the makers of the pump. Which is all just an irritating time waste. Seriously it's easy to be overwhelmed by this small stuff. To forget that the island is still the island, the garden is growing, we had asparagus from it with our tea yesterday, and the first artichoke is ready. I've also picked and hulled and turned into jam which will have to be reheated and thickened 800 grams of cape gooseberries, marking the first time in my life I've had near enough of the little paper lanterns to make jam. It's one of the best jams too. Each little berry weighs between 1 and 3 grams each, and needs to be individually picked by grovelling under the bush, and then taken out of its cape and washed. If you're a decent bloke, I'll give you wallaby or tomatoes or squid. A friend you get flathead or flake or olives or a turkey. A good friend you get abalone, or a flounder or two, garfish or a pheasant. Bacon or crayfish, you know you're up there with the chosen few I hope to have at my back if the apocalypse comes... If you ever get cape gooseberry jam, you'd better polish your halo a lot because it comes under the heading of 'you may never even be allowed to taste this unless you're up for Dave's idea of sainthood.' Sorry, but there it is :-). I think I may get 2 small jars and I'm saving them for my old age.
Writing proceedeth apace, and planting is a bit behind. And the sea is cold and unfriendly looking, about which I am glad.