How is it that the city is silent in the sun? All day the doors and windows have been open, but all I've heard is birdsong. And a small cheer across the backyards when England went one up in the football. I have not yet forgiven Steven Gerrard's own goal when Liverpool played Chelsea. It was a vital championship match. On that basis, it felt hypocritical to cheer the homeland's accidental victory. Indeed, proceedings were so dull I'd have given up watching, but I had visitors. Why anyone would want to watch a match in my company is uncertain. But they arrived in good cheer. With two boxes of Turkish pizzas: like Italian, but soggy. My eldest had decamped to a friend's. The youngest, after a tearful interlude in which she claimed her visit to Hadrians Wall had left her 'traumatised', was off to lunch and a musical with a classmate. It's all right for some:-o Tomorrow we are off to Suffolk for a dog show. The little terrier we occasionally babysit, is taking part. We will be going mob handed - my teeny-weeny mum, a large leg of lamb that she has marinaded, me, the progeny, and an unwieldy 6ft 2" teenage girl who's spending the night here. We are many hued. That should give them a scare in Bury. Watch this space;-)