Personal stuff of very little interest to anybody. But The Inn has been looking rather untended lately, so herewith. . . .

Well, it's been a quiet week at The Inn. At least so far as posting here goes. Herself took the week off as vacation. She's been in a tidying up mood all week which has interfered with the quiet contemplation required for all the deep thoughts you usually read here. Ahem. That, and we went out to eat almost every day, which requires more than just eating, but also ambling about the neighbourhood and poking around in nearby shops.

And now the Foot Physician, the metatarsal medico, is displeased with my progress. As, indeed, am I. But he has put me back in that #$%!£! boot/brace for a couple more weeks. So I shall be playing for a funeral in it tomorrow, no processing or recessing required, laus sit Deo. And the rest of the weekend I'll be stumping and limping about the Costa Mesa Highland Games, trying to catch all the piping, some of the dancing, and trying to keep appointments with all the people I've promised to meet up with. (Did I just end a sentence with two prepositions?) Oh, yes, and trying to tick off all the items on my shopping list in the vendors' booths.

If you're in the neighbourhood, this will point you in the right direction. I should be relatively easy to find. And extremely easy to catch.