How much better, hope in a pot and horrid fate.

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1. After a restless night, I get up furious at all the noises and troubles that have chased away all chance of sleep. It's funny how much better things seem after breakfast and even just a little bit of physical activity.

2. I'm decommissioning nasturtiums ruined by caterpillars and tiny iridescent flea beetles when I notice pale shoots uncurling by the roots. Not only that, but a few seeds lie on the surface of the pots. I replant, push the seeds into the soil, water and hope.

3. We've finished The Hound of the Baskervilles. The antagonist really is a rotter who thoroughly deserves such a horrid fate that is foreshadowed to great effect at the start of the story; and greatly enhanced by the lurid description of Holmes, Watson and Lestrade tracking but not finding any trace.

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