Chutney, Jackdaw and wake-up.

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1. Nick sends a proud picture of the chutney he and his mother have made from the tomatoes that definitely won't ripen.

2. Jackdaw has found something of interest in the brickwork on the sealed chimney. He stands on the cap and dips his head down to properly inspect the courses below his feet.

3. I am flagging in the hour before supper, arguing crossly with Word's spellchecker, when my phone rings. It's a friend wanting a quick editorial chat, and that seems a much better use of my time than backchatting at a machine (which, after all, is only doing its job).

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