Several Domestic Tragedies, in fact; at least three. The first being that Dr Biswell must go tomorrow, come what may — he should have been gone days ago were it not for badness with the MOT and repeated, unsuccessful attempts to get the right bit on the part of George at the Garage. Anyway we have had a farewell dinner with freshly dug Pink Fir Apple chips, which are a fiddle but once in a while, worth it. The second Domestic Tragedy is that today, a light and fragile parcel arrived from the Canadian Professor. It contains a number of perfectly packed, completely intact sugar cones from the best ice-creamery in Toronto. But alas, we do not as yet have a freezer, so they are wasting their sweetness on the desert air. I only hope they last out until we have ice cream making facilities once more. The third Domestic Tragedy is quite awful: the Tropical Godfather, who we were expecting to see quite shortly, fell down a flight of stairs in Kuala Lumpur and broke his femur. We are so sorry about this, not least because he will not be able to come over. Anyone who is so minded, do please offer a prayer to the deity of your choice for his recovery.