I'm typing on Dilly's laptop as I'm babysitting this evening, and I realise that I don't know how to drag the window across or make it bigger with one of those little pads, so this is all a bit annoyingly small for me. Oh, hang on, I'm experimenting.
Right, got it. That's better.
The price list is up on our website now, if you're interested. The link is on the sidebar. It was an interesting sale, we've never had so many items reach into the thousands of pounds before. It had a lowering effect on the last lot, which we'd thought would make more than the lower estimate, but there were only a few unsold pieces of Lowestoft, and overall it did extremely well. It could well be that some people thought that their money would be as safe in antiques as anywhere else. We already have nearly the whole of the next sale in April sorted with some fine pieces of china. If you think this is all desperately trivial when people are worrying about their mortgage, so it is, but so are many other things, such as astonishingly wealthy, though no doubt vastly worthy and compassionate, young men having a motorbike jolly across Africa and wanting people to give money to cheer them on. I'd rather have the link with my home town 250 years ago and the items those forgotten artisans, craftsmen and artists were responsible for.
So, I'm looking after Pugsley. He's never gone to bed without his sister before and we were in some doubt if he'd settle. Squiffany said her goodbyes to him lovingly this evening, getting on her knees to hug and reassure him - you can see how they are used to being spoken to by their parents! He was fine after they'd gone, choosing various games and jigsaw puzzles from the cupboard and saying "Well done, Pugsley, good boy" with satisfaction after finishing a particularly complicated puzzle. He blotted his copybook rather when I'd put him in his pyjamas and gone to warm his bedtime milk, by doing an unmentionable activity in his nappy - not five minutes after sitting briefly on the potty and assuring me there was nothing to come. They use reusable nappies mostly, but a disposable is more comfortable and absorbant for the night, and my frugal soul was dismayed at the waste of a new nappy; furthermore it was the last, so he's in one of his usual ones after all. His father was out of nappies day and night soon after reaching the age of 2, so let's hope Pugsley emulates him soon.
Afterwards, I read him 4 bedtime stories (usually they have 3 but he wanted Fox in Socks and who could resist?), tucked him up in bed and I haven't heard another sound in the past hour and a half.
You do appreciate, I'm sure, that I write as I would speak; that is, mostly nonsense. If I refer to a bottle instead of a bunch of flowers, just be glad that you only have to interpret me. Just imagine how confusing it is actually to be me. You may spare a compassionate thought for my family, but on the other hand they have the joy of my constant and enlivening presence, so they are most awfully lucky, by and large.