That day's To Do List - the story

2 bottles Windows To The Soul Cleaner

clear Miss Streatley's throat

puce cravat

cancel subscription to Lumpfish Breeder


1. Now I know that one's eyes are generally held to be the windows to your soul. I think that this is a kind of anthropomorphism, based on the extremely valid assumption that man is an animal, and therefore without any value. In my estimation, the true windows to the soul are maybe sunglasses, because the viewer sees their own face and expression when looking into the eyes of another person, which gives them the chance to project their own characteristics onto you for the purposes of holding a conversation with you, which most people do anyway, or perhaps the windows to your garden shed, for within surely lie the secrets to the innermost workings of your psyche. Anyway, when I've had a bit of a think about it and come to a conclusion I'll buy the relevant cleaner and plenty of it, so that the workings of my soul become clear to all and any who choose to look.

2. Miss Streatley had been absent from work for two days; I monitor her movements very carefully, of course, in a way that is caring and, frankly, so transparently paternal that I've heard myself referred to as her 'storker'. Sweet, very sweet - but there are no babies for me to bring yet. Anyway, I popped round to see if she was all right, and, after having thoroughly checked front and back garden, all the windows and the roof, I rang on her doorbell. She eventually let me in, after about eight or nine rings - poor thing, she must have been quite shaky and slow to get to the door - upon which I saw her clutching a warm compress to her face.

It seems that the left side of her face was rather swollen, for no obvious reason, and the slightest pressure on her cheekbone produced such agony for her that I only did it twice. Clearly it was much more than a cold, and although she was a little hoarse, Miss Streatley managed to mention that she had felt a little off since having a bit of root canal work a month ago. I needed no further information and immediately set up an old yogic cleansing method that was usually very effective: thoroughly anointing a piece of string with lard, I ran it up one nostril (the librarian's nostril - mine was not in need of yogic cleansing) and down the other, passing it through the sinuses. Imagine our surpise when it carried with it on its exit a shabby old piece of cotton wool, left there by her dentist and now the cause of the horrendous inflammation in her poor librarian's face.

3. The other day Keith asked me what a fop was. 'A dandy', I replied. 'Well what's a dandy then, twat?' Keith came back, quick as a flash, unashamed of his ignorance and nowty into the bargain. 'Well it's certainly not you,' I said, now drawn into the sort of pointless ping-pong of insults that passes for conversation with Keith and his mates. 'Watch,' I said hurriedly as Keith drew breath for another assault on my intelligence, and bustled out of the The Mason's Handshake, back to my house, into my bedroom and into my dressing chamber, where I swiftly donned a pair of moleskin breeches, patent leather knee boots, a silk shirt with a ruched front and a velvet frock coat. Grabbing a gold-ferruled ebony walking stick I made my way past the jeering populace to The Mason's and presented myself to Keith. 'No bleeding cravat,' he sneered. And he was right. I have to get one, puce or heliotrope, to make my outfit complete and bring Keith's vocab up to the mark.

4. There's a new shop in Wellminstow, taking over from the defunct mining-pan shop. The demand for mining pans dropped after the Alaskan gold rush, and although the owners used to organise panning excursions to Wales, there just wasn't the business. So 'Fool's Gold' has closed, and the new shop is called, apparently, 'Roe is Me'. And it specialises - what shop in Wellminstow doesn't specialise? - in fish eggs of all types, from finest caviar to cod's roe, via the rather gamey lumpfish eggs that are sometimes passed off in arriviste circles as true caviar. I'll have no more need for Lumpfish Breeder but that's fine. I’ll keep my lumpfish as pets, of course, and they'll be more relaxed about the whole thing.