Folie a Neuf

It looks so small!

And here it is, my latest mirrorial folly. When the polyfilla over the screws dries I shall paint it a jolly colour, or maybe a sombre one. I can now count nine mirrors in the house, ten if you include the small one on a stand that magnifies your face if you turn it the other way. Narcissists will love being here. The new mirror is big, five feet by three. But I think I like it. It's too high to let me see myself working at the barre or the room could be a ballet studio. But I think it will improve the light situation, and maybe now a function will suggest itself.

On the left the old yellow, on the right the new Slipper Satin

I popped down to Waitrose to order my turkey since I'd been so unsuccessful online, only to be thwarted again. Bloody internet. So I did a bit of shopping, and at the fish counter I saw some nice line-caught cod loins, slightly reduced. One of them was significantly smaller than the other one. "Could I have that chap please," I said, pointing at the little 'un. We Laings tend to anthropomorphise objects. As the fishmonger wrapped it he said "He's called Roger". I thought I'd misheard him, and then I was sure I hadn't. "What's the other one called then?" I asked, and back he came, quick as a flash: "That's Clive." And I thought I was the only loony in these parts. "We give then names when it's quiet," he told me with a grin. High five, respect, whatevs. "Tell all the truth, but tell it slant," wrote Emily Dickinson, and I'm sure Yeats said something similar. The straight and narrow is so boring. Much better to wobble the lines and take a different squint.