Renovation frenzy: Today I started varnishing the windowsills. Many, many windowsills. And the trim round the windows, and the nice bits of board under the sills. So far I have varnished in the hallway, toilet, bathroom, spare bedroom and my bedroom. Still to go are the study, kitchen, diningroom and french doors. Two coats at least, the first being thinned with white spirits. And a coat of yacht varnish in the bathroom on account of the shower. Plus I'm still struggling to finish painting inside the (huge) bathroom cupboard.

It'll all look lovely when it's finished.

Got my rug back from the cleaners. The cost had mysteriously increased, from the initial quote of £70 to a quote when I dropped it off of £120 to a final invoice for £140 plus VAT.

"Oh well," I said. "The insurance firm said I could replace it, so I guess they won't quibble about an extra hundred quid for cleaning."
"You should replace it anyway," said the sales assistant.
"Pardon?"
"You could get the insurance company to pay for a replacement and keep this one."
"I don't do that sort of thing."
"You should! The insurance companies are all up to no good ... the premiums they charge for a start..."
"That's because so many people cheat them," I said.

That shut her up. I've had enough of this, I really have. Is it really so freakish to be honest? Gah. Anyway, the rug looks lovely and I'm glad to have it back, brightening up the ugly grey lino tiles.

Bit of a busy weekend coming up: a friend's going away for a month and I'm minding her cat. I pick it up on Friday, then collect my kinda-cousin Philippa and take them both home for dinner. Then Philippa and I abandon the poor cat and go to see Hannibal. Saturday I take the friend to the airport in the morning and then go to the races at Musselburgh. I'm reading a novel about horse-racing (Horse Heaven by Jane Smilie) and just have to go to the racetrack for real, even though it's jumps and not flat-racing like in the book. They don't go in for flat racing here much and they don't have trotting at all I think, I wonder why? I've only been to see trotting once, a night trots meeting, and it was thrilling -- the jockies perched on their little buggies are weird when you think about it, but when you're there, you don't, it's pure excitement.

And then of course on Sunday there's all that varnishing I've been avoiding.