Well, duh......

There are times when I amaze even myself, the depths of stupidity that I can achieve.

So, first thing this morning to the bathroom. The window is open, and a very large wasp is buzzing around on the pane, on the inside. I do not like wasps, being allergic to an undetermined extent, but I try not to actually kill them if I can avoid it.

So, I whiz around, pick up a cup from the washbasin to encourage the damn thing to scoot out of the window, lunge with it at the pesky thing, and......

My dental plate (so now the world knows that little secret, too) which ALWAYS LIVES IN THAT PARTICULAR GREEN CUP flies straight out of the bathroom window.

O, bugger.

Someone was looking after me - I galloped downstairs, and out on to the damp flagstones, without benefit of footwear, and the glittery little gnasher is there in plain sight. Phew. And seemingly undamaged, too. Thank you, whoever.

This tale, for all it exemplifies the idiocy of which I am sometimes capable, now forces me to recount the tale of Maud and her false teeth. Maud was my grandmother, who like so many of her generation lived by the maxim "Waste not, want not." She had a full set (not like my insignificant bijou model) which one day, when I was around six years old, was et by the dog. Now, there could be many reasonable ways to react to this occurrence, and murdering the dog could even be one of them. Surgery, definitely, with anaesthetic perhaps an optional extra (don't panic, I don't mean a word of this, I am totally known as an animal nut, it is all just for dramatic effect). However, Maud did, as ever, the unexpected.

With sang froid and great patience, she followed the dog around until nature did what nature will do. The false teeth, full set, were retrieved from the steaming pile, washed (and I do hope disinfected) and POPPED BACK IN. I did love my grandmother dearly and take after her in many ways. But I wouldn't follow her example quite that far.

The episode, the book group (High Wind in Jamaica, which I enjoyed a lot, opinions welcomed) and the trip to Tesco's mean no more Cornwall photos as yet. Fiddle de dee.