Friday 14th March - pi day, supermoon,

 Do sausage rolls count for pi day? In my world they do.

(Why pi day? Because pi is 3.14, which if you write your days in the format m/dd rather than dd/m then 3.14 is 14th March) 

Which reminds me

Data Organisation on my lap top

I now save all my word documents with the name in the format

 yyyy mm dd title 

Eg

 2025 03 06 bibbety bobbity

because then then all get listed in date order. If I'm really organised I'll put the file name and location in small print at the bottom of the document, eg

Medical/test results/2025 03 06 blood test 

Unlike my father who just clicked 'save' and relied on the search function to find it later - a method that became increasingly tricky when he couldn't remember the name of the person or place he wanted to find...

Slippers

These arrived yesterday

Oh me oh my. They are perfect. Felt uppers and linings and weatherproof soles. I haven't had any proper slippers since I threw out my venerable sheepskin ones, after a near disastrous slither a few years ago. I came down the top half dozen stairs of our wooden staircase on my back and bottom. The soles had worn nearly through and become polished with age.

I was glad of these slippers this morning as we went out at 6.15 to watch the partial eclipse of the Supermoon... alas, it had already set! We have enough of a slope on the western side of the house, as well as te houses and trees opposite, to mean that the moon had already disappeared below our horizon.

However it was a lovely crisp pale pink frosty morning and my feet stayed warm...

Music

I spent a solid four hours on paperwork this morning, copying, collating, gathering information and packaging it up to post out to various people. Argh.

The only good thing about it all is that it's done. Not everything, but everything for now. I shall treat it like 'work', and now have 'workfree' weekend. Maybe.

And that's the reason I've chosen Byrdlo from Pictures at an Exhibition, originally written for piano by Mussorgsky and brilliantly orchestrated by Ravel.

Byrdlo means ox-cart; you can hear the heavy wagon, pulled along the muddy road by a team of oxen, grinding closer and closer until it passes you, and carries on it's way.

A bit like the piles of paper I steadily created, filling the table, until they were filed and sorted and reduced to a small stack on envelopes ready or the post.