In which the universe is not benign

[desperance]

So the bank manager calls me in today, "for a chat," he says, which must be bank-managerese for an intense grilling, for I am seared on both sides, tho' still raw in the middle. The gist of our conversation was that he wants me to pay off the bulk of the overdraft; which I can see his point, because fifty per cent of annual turnover is probably not a standard model for an overdraft facility, but now is just not the time. Like, I have no money, and will not until next year. But he is kind of insistent, so I don't quite know what to do.

As witness, I went shopping to soothe my ragged soul once I got out of there, and didn't buy anything. That's how bad it was.

So I asked my three wise friends (I kept six honest serving-men, but three of them have quit), saying "what should I dooo?" - and one said "work harder" and one said "write more" and the last of them said "get lucky". Which I can do two out of the three, 'specially as they are in fact the same thing; but there's nothing I can do about the third, I never have cracked that one.

So, extra words it is: but not today. Today I am going to make pork pies. And marrow chutney. I might even do some housework or something. Though the thing about cleaning, as against cooking: nobody ever notices that you've done it, y'know? They only ever notice if you haven't. Cooking's better. *nods*