Damask

or not, I care little, but love its subtle colour and the name fits. I cut a few others from M's garden, the tiny white ones that are pink as buds but end up the whitest of whites. I hasten to admit I am under instruction to enjoy them as I can while he is away. Some went to Jay and that felt really good, spreading the joy a little.

I have had the most lovely evening with the boys back in the fold. Frank Cottrell Boyce is filling us with Mongolian visions from Formby beach and caravan park. It is such a delight reading a story about places the boys know so well. And even more coincidences when Mrs Pepperpot told me of her conversation with Roger McGough the other week and when she mentioned Little Agu, he knew who she was talking about. When he visits Deia in July, he most probably will get very accustomed to his face. I should be getting some prints back tomorrow, BIG ones, and they will be on view very soon I hope.

Otherwise, I blew the fuse with my new machine in my pressing enthusiasm.