Free to a good home. Or, a bad home.

The Bugsplat Visitor Centre have a table booked at the market. At the Bugsplat Town Hall tomorrow I shall be grumpily attempting to price an assortment of goods - teapots, coffee sets, paperweights, books and videos. There's some really horrible things in the boxes that are accumulating on the back verandah of the Bugsplat Visitor Centre.

This week has been difficult. I know why Agatha Christie set so many of her mysteries in small country towns. There have been some consequences to do with my involvement with Block 99. Nothing I can't handle, though my landlady's lecture about the controversial political stuff we've been involved in was a masterpiece of subtle menace. The mysteries of the human condition unfold around the machinations of the White Elephant Table.

I really hate these fundraisers. They're pathetic. They don't raise enough money to cover my time if I were being paid. I often feel inclined to suggest that instead of fundraising, I take some Leave Without Pay. That way, at least I'll get some time off.