It's proving really time-consuming and tricky, this setting up of another blog. I want all the bells and whistles that I had on my first Blogger blog, and some of the ease of posting pictures that I had on my Wordpress blog.
Instead, I find I'm having to set up Google Photos, and the back up system that goes with it and keeps interfering with my computer's performance, whilst trying to work out how to make my front page more useful, and not to run into the limits that Blogger imposed on the first one, as well as not losing the Wordpress one when I try to archive it. I'm not at all technical, Apple have already told me that my computer was now officially Vintage and about to become Obsolete, and I really could do with Nelly* at my elbow, guiding me through what seems an interminable process.
Meantime, I managed - when one of you raised the matter - to install a Follow button. Followers are good for a blogger's insecurity issues.... Please do use it, and then try to be patient while I muddle along hoping to make this work.
Meantime, here's a photo of something or other, picked at random. Oh, it's a cropped section of one that makes Shelagh, our Canadian friend, and I laugh immoderately every time. The Gardener took it of us both from across the road as we chatted, sitting on a wall in Lynton last September. Neither of us had noticed the man and his dog sitting behind us - but oh, when we saw the picture on a computer screen later.... that dog!!
Look at that mouth!!
*"Sitting with Nelly" - a nice old-fashioned expression that means a new employee spending time with an old hand being shown the ropes.
Note: I have never worked with anyone called Nelly, for which I am rather sorry, but I do remember a truly horrible woman who clearly loathed the doomed task of showing me how to work an old departmental switchboard, and who with barely-disguised hatred made it impossible for me to understand any of it. As a 17-year-old in a school holiday job, I was terrified of this gorgon and her plugs and leads, and may even find - should I ever encounter such a switchboard again - that I am Emotionally Scarred For Life.