Last night showed a hidden surprise from the day before. The people applying themselves to the artist's studio and using it to present themselves had all started squabbling. It was strange, for the one they chose to attack had been the friend of the artist for many years. Did they not realise that she was a rather special person? Their personal hubris did not allow them to see this, and now the whole arrangement is in danger of collapsing. It will be interesting to watch. It is important not to be involved in such personal matters.
The evening was quiet. Sharpened a few chisels for the artist, it is an interesting chore. When the interest is gone, he will have to do it himself.
This morning, after a very early false awakening, slept tide until nine, made breakfast and finished the Wordle puzzle.
Telephoned with an old friend, and then the rest of the day turned fovea to depressions. It is just too bad. Let the cat in to the shop and fed her in the little kitchen. Went upstairs to the summer flat and collected a few small items, and then took a short walk through the town and bought a very small overpriced plastic bottle containing wood glue. It will do to repair the chair that fell apart under the son months ago.
It is cold, wet and miserable outside.
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