I'm going to have a quick whine...it's hot and overcast and it gives me a headache and makes me cross and irritable. Warm is fine...sunshine is lovely...but these sort of heavy days get me down and all the creatures that bite or sting or make you itch come out to play and home in on exposed bits of flesh...so I wriggle and stratch and fidget and the palms of my hands get hot and sweaty and I keep wiping them down the side of my trousers and get greasy marks...

And...I haven't finished whining yet...and Ancestry is being really horrid to me and is denying that my relatives are my relatives even though I know full well my Granny was my Granny...it keeps saying about practically everyone ...'This person has no connection to you' and I think that's mean to do that...they said it about my Mother, though that could be true of course. I did always wonder if she'd found me somewhere...

I found a relative who was 'Found Drowned' on his death cert. it didn't give any details...just those two rather blunt words. Whether he threw himself into the nearest river or not will have to remain a mystery...

The woman I've been in contact with over a shared relative sent another message to say Jane...the relative...was apparently a witness at a murder trial in about 1892 or thereabouts...so I Googled it and found what I think was the trial...famous in the times because the chap who was found guilty had roamed about murdering people left right and centre...until he was caught. Jane was described in a newspaper report as being 'of outstanding beauty'...quite what difference it made to her testimomy I'm not sure...her son carried the newspaper clipping about in his pocket afterwards because he was so pleased to read his Mother described as such. Holly would give anything to get a hold of that original clipping of course...

It's funny the stuff we find ourselves interested in and would give our eye teeth to possess...just really simple bits, nothing of any great value. I'd have really liked my English Grandfathers walking stick that he had for almost all of his life...it was a knobbly length of Blackthorn that he'd cut and shaped himself. To have a photograph of my Irish Great GrandFather would be like winning the Lottery...we do have masses of records about him...all his Mariners certs and so on...but to have a photo would be the icing on the cake...

I finished the new cushion cover I was making...and cut all the fabric out for another one. The old cushion covers have been washed to within an inch of their lives and are awfully faded now...mind you I do tend to boil the ones the dogs have been sitting on...so it isn't any wonder they've faded away. It's all very well thinking a puppy is sweet when it clambers up onto the settee to sit beside you of an evening...a large, hairy, grown-up dog who thinks the cushions are to make him more comfy and sprawls the entire length of whatever seat he or she is on so you have to squeeze yourself carefully into a tiny space isn't quite so funny...

And although they are a comfort in the winter when a warm body beside you is a bit like a hotwater bottle...in the summer and on days like these all I want to do is shove them off onto the floor where they look at me with a disgusted face and just jump back on again. Millie wriggles about and grumbles under her breath...Eilis snores fit to bust...Lily's breath stinks to high heaven and she tends to yawn a great deal so you get a waft of foul odour every few minutes...Bobby just lies on the floor right under your feet so you fall over him everytime you get up...then he looks offended because you've inadvertendly trodden on his tail.

Better have a think about what to have for supper I suppose...everyone else has had theirs...now it's our turn.