Please Could I Have My Ball Back?

We met Mrs Spot today, named after the dog she had when we first knew her. This is Bandit, one of her two latest additions, the previous pair being a little deaf (diplomatic? - if you remember the Russian diplomacy of the 1960s) and stiff. We need to return through three generations to arrive back at Spot - some twenty five years ago, a dog we still remember with affection.

The Old Lady had a fall last night, no real damage done but she is a little sore and, apparently, staying in bed and refusing to take her medication; she's convinced that the pills are making her need the toilet several times a night. Since, for what ever reason, she's not answering the phone, we can't reason with her; the key drugs are to control osteoporosis so it's important that she takes them, particularly if she's going to fall regularly. The real reason for these mishaps is that she stubbornly refuses to call for help when she gets up in the night and also will not use her walking aids.

Having united my two bee colonies last week and given them a good feed, I was somewhat relieved to find that they were strong enough (but only just) to tolerate the formic acid treatment for the varroa mite; they weren't keen on it, so I'll try and visit them in the next couple of days to make sure that they are still ok. They'll also need a lot more feeding to prepare them for the winter.