Couldn’t wait to see what the fabric would look like washed and dyed, so before breakfast I cut up some lengths and got the washing machine going. It’s come up all matted and felted, and the colour of a mongrel dog. Perfect. Vile cloth, that’s what the Order of St Clare says! But the raw fabric, a brushed cotton, leaves lint all over the living room carpet that won’t hoover up, no matter how hard I try. Does every musicologist have to put up with this? I don’t think so. I’ve arranged to spend tomorrow night with my best friend from school, Suzanne (see previous post). We haven’t seen each other in ages, and I felt a bit cheeky emailing her and asking, but she rings back saying of course I can stay. She tells me she has written an erotic memoir, and is now in the top 50 bestselling list. “You’re in it,” she chirps. Blimey! And I google for a searchable copy on the web, but no such luck. Guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow night to find out what she’s said. But there does seem to be an awful lot of web coverage for the book. Good for her.