Well, my dears, said old Mrs. Rabbit

Thank you to Camille and Lois, for your comments. It's hard to believe there's snow in Texas, but then it's hard to believe that even I, who am pretty hardy, am this winter conducting a secret love affair with a new electric blanket. Sometimes I don't even switch it on. Just lying on top if it, knowing I could, is enough of a joy. It has an automatic turn off, too, so you don't even have to worry about falling asleep and being fried, like bacon.

Now - Twitter. It's so kind when people say they would follow me if I tweeted. But I'm concerned about being a bore. On a minute by minute basis, my life is just a life. If I have any great thoughts, I try and keep them for my books and I don't think you'd really want to know about my laundry or shopping. I mean, even I don't want to know about them. And when I do want to shout something for all the world to hear, it's usually rude - like 'what's with people who feed other people's dogs in the park? They should be walloped!' or 'why don't people waiting in queues to pay GET THEIR BEASTLY PURSES OUT BEFORE THEY REACH THE TILL?' So, until I can be sure I won't tweet in rabid capitals, I'm resisting.

Off into the town now, to pick up my poor MacBook pro. It produced the dreaded screen of death last Saturday. My rejected iBook G4 was very smug. 'That'll teach you,' it said, as it sturdily cranked into action. I've been very nice to it. Porridge for both of us for lunch today.