June 7th (Sat)

The sun keeps shining down and there is a general agreement that something ought to be done about the rubbish heap behind our house where others keep a garden. The shed is emptied of rubbish, and a part of this is the hob given to us a few years back by T&M. Unlike the one we have had for the last 18 moths, this has nobs to control the heat rather than having to attack them with a pair of pliers. It is not as pretty as the old one,but in this case functionality will out. I nearly kill myself disconnecting the old one; there is a loud bang and a puff of smoke, so I decide it might be best to undertake the project with the power switched off!
New pupil at midday, s, the sister of M. Chalk and cheese. M is a lovely lad, and has passed on my name to several others, but he would scarcely be number one on anyone's dinner party list. S on the other hand is a real livewire, lively, intelligent and engaging. She can also drive a car, so I suspect this will be a brief relationship!
H toils in the sun all afternoon and does a fantastic job in the garden. She doesn't like my idea of storing all the crap under the decking so I sulk and withdraw my labour. Emsy builds a bid wigwam out of the wood in preparation for a fire.
At Trent Bridge in the sunshine, NZ stumble towards an inevitable defeat. The ground has sprouted another new stand and looks magnificent. I toy with the idea of travelling to Nottingham on the morrow.
Dan is off to his mates for the day, and Sophes is not feeling so good, so myself, H and Emsy go out to the Harrow for the evening. It i a bit of a sad affair. A pleasant and original acoustic band sing their own songs which aren't bad, but sufficiently forgettable to consign them to the empty pub circuit for the foreseeable. The engaging lead singer runs his well oiled routine with the crowd, which at it's zenith consists of 10 people, at least three of which arrived with them, and three of whom, namely ourselves, will be departing once dinner is done.
The pub is run by a lady whose intentions seem good,but her face suggests a welcome through gritted teeth. She is actually very attentive to us, but there's just something about her which says "beware." I learn later that the pub is haemorrhaging it's locals, and that they point the finger at her.
The fare is perfectly edible,but there is nothing I could not reproduce exactly with the aid of a tin opener and my new hob with knobs. It's thoroughly unimaginative and I can think of many better ways of parting with 30 quid.
We wave the band goodnight. I am glad we have Emsy with us, I feel less guilty if they realise we have a young un to get home to bed.