The man on the radio is offering today's quiz. Name the 4 songs and work out what the 5th should be. Taylor Swift eases her way through yet another song that makes me think of lift interiors.

Bluebells aplenty. I had the temerity to move amongst them. They're situated beneath the Rookery. 'Presents' showered down and I beat a hasty retreat.

Newspaper day has arrived again. One Groundhog Day TV Guide if you please, and some of your finest 'news' to wrap my cat litter in.

The temperature has dipped again ... my toes ache in spite of the sunshine.

Trying to mix up my morning routine ... my hands and one and only marble have yet to agree on anything.

"We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves" - Leonora Carrington

The man on the radio talks of winning a prize for a luxury hotel before Rod Stewart tells us 'I get up in the morning, and while I'm still yawning, I watch the television and digest the news.' The traffic lady mentions Harold's Cross and Dolphin Barn and the usual collisions, car crashes and chaos.

Adverts ... adverts ... adverts ... when taking antihistamines always keep away from children.

The shiny metropolis awaits, perhaps going through the ivy covered window to get there. Another Tuesday in Tuesdayville.

Been watching old style ghost stories, once a week, M R James and his stuffed shirt pouring out it's contents. A friend reminded me I've yet to listen to the peeling of The Yellow Wallpaper.

The eyes are meant to be the windows to the soul ... does a head tilt change the reflection? The window cleaner gave up his job and took to star gazing. A new constellation to sweep away consternation ...

"You can tread on as many cracks in the pavement as you wish, if you've already poked all the bears." - Frenella Peabody

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday ... or is it Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday in Tuesdayville? Either way, I'm still full of sleep, head already thinking towards next weekend and resenting the bloody time change.

Grrrrrrr and Aarrgghh and I need more coffee! ...

'Your lights are on but you're not home' sings Robert Palmer ... the man on the radio talks of dusting off the old jukebox ... 'Lovers of the world unite' sing David and Jonathan (though both were called Roger) ... 'What you need is Flash dusters!!!' assures the enthusiastic advert.

Aurally chaotic flips from one thing to another, but the surface of my coffee remains calm as I cradle my mug ... I close my eyes and ears and taste the hot liquid.

I love listening to the music on the radio. The ads, not so much. Amused by some, infuriated by others, but that's what the mute button is for.

The man on the radio continues to dust off his jukebox ... perhaps i should contact him and ask if he'd care to pop over and admire some of my dust. As long as he doesn't write in it.

There's dust throughout this house but not in my head. Takes but a moment to clean dust off something I need to use ... and, once used, the item will be returned to its former position to gather dust all over again.

I like to drift, my thoughts drifting with me. The dust drifts, more in some places than others, shows me where I've physically been in the house, when not just residing in my head. It makes for a strange kind of a beach ... no parasols, no sunloungers, no cocktails ... just a landscape bathed in music and meanderings. I'm listening to tracks and replacing certain words with the word dust instead.

Sunday sleepy Sunday, although it's always Tuesday ... maybe I'll dust off the calendar and check just which Tuesday this is ... 'All you need is dust' sing The Beatles ...

Which one are we going through today? Should we go left or right? Do I know what I want for breakfast? Will it rain (all day)? Will there be anything to watch on 'Groundhog Day' TV? Which white noise will help me sleep? Do I want to finish the book I'm reading? What is this post about?... Questions, questions, questions. The eternal 'why?' ... Saturday morning, which in truth is yet another Tuesday in Tuesdayville, with questions melting in the rain. I'm thinking of a favourite children's programme and the windows you could choose from to go somewhere magical ... I don't have an arch window but, if I did, that would be the one I'd go through today ...

The man on the radio shouts 'Hail! Hail!', he has my attention, then I realise he's talking about the weather ... Tuesday's in Tuesdayville talk of boots on wet pavements, umbrellas blowing inside out and shoals of hurrying shoppers with their shoulders hunched up to their ears ... the man on the radio has turned to rowing machines as a topic, the shuttling back and forth of people on a sweaty carpet sea, at least for those whose gym membership is more than a monthly direct debit and good intentions ... I remember my own good intentions that would then morph into a takeaway and sitting on the settee watching Cher go wild with her workout ... the man on the radio announces the news, I press the mute button and go back to the washing up and the view from the window ...

Another Tuesday in Tuesdayville, every day is Tuesday ... the rain beats down here, there's snow elsewhere in the country, the wind makes it feel like minus 6 ... the man on the radio talks of multiple road collisions. I remember the year I arrived, driving through the snow, moving slower than slow, the flakes blustering past the car windows, the road markings obscured, signposts obliterated ... and yet ... still the other drivers hurtled past, scootling round me, seemingly seeing what I could not see ... confidence or just plain craziness? Welcome to the Emerald Isle ... hit the road and hurl the rule book out of the window ...

Made it past Tuesday, or did I? After all, every day is Tuesday in Tuesdayville ... pinkest of skies this morning so I'm thinking of shepherds ... the shiny metropolis trip yesterday brought me a book, to go with all my other books, tsundoku is the only way ... there was a particular story that caught my eye, moths as vengeance for murder. As I crouched down with Signor Floyd this morning admiring the water trays, he pointed out that we in turn were being watched ... he tapped at the little pebble, and I tapped my camera, and then we left the pebble to its pebbley existence and went in for coffee ...

'You're more than a number in my little red book' sings the group of men temporarily trapped inside my radio ... the wonders, as a child, of such things being possible ... the first time putting headphones on and having your head fill with music ... the first night your parents go out and ramping up the volume on your favourite LP causing the speakers to complain ... that first step inside a nightclub, bathed in sight and sound, the tinnitus whine at 3am ... back in the kitchen and The Drifters drift on ... today is dress up day in Tuesdayville, pick any costume you like ...

Tuesday was yesterday, today and tomorrow ... my calendar is in the bin ... the Christmas hamper ads already sing out on the radio ... Christmas trees can still be seen through my neighbours' windows ... Valentines Day, Easter, Mothering Sunday, Fathers' Day ... today I shall celebrate my favourite sock, a survivor of the washing machine, the other seemingly having gone through the portal that all socks with mismatched ideas go through ...

Days without rain, I think I remember them ... it's been raining solidly for the past 48 hours ... welcome to the Emerald Isle, bring a coat, bring a boat, build a moat ... the shiny metropolis awaits today and my so-called raincoat doesn't so much repel the water as invite it on board ... the irony of taking a bath yesterday, I could have just stood outside ... the man on the radio has invited the lady to sing of Rotterdam and Tuesday's got more holes than a colander ...

Early start, up in the dark and damp, the shiny metropolis awaits ... a little more of the snow book, nearly through the alphabet part of it ... Georgia on my mind croons Willie Nelson, a man that loves his horses ... got that new sock feel on my feet once more ... wonder if the magnificent buzzard will call today in search of unwary rats ... every day is Tuesday but every day is different ..

I'm thinking of snow ... I'm thinking of 'that scene' in Titanic as they look out over the ocean, not that I've ever sat through the film ... I'm thinking of blank pages, the ones that hope for something profound to be written on them, but end up with yet another to do list that'll curl up and get lost with all the others ... I used to use post it notes, stick them all along the bannister figuring that I'd grab one on my way up or down and actually do what was written on it ... I'm thinking of the theatre and sending little white planes down into the Circle seats ... I'm thinking of all the notebooks I keep buying, whilst continuing to rip corners off envelopes to scribble something important on ... I'm thinking of snow on another Tuesday in Tuesdayville ...

Frosty little morning, popping an arm out from beneath the duvet and quickly popping it back ... tractors still tractoring, they've been at it all night ... 'lift music' playing on the radio, the kind you'd hate to be stuck between floors with ... a wealth of things to be done but just concentrating on holding the coffee cup ... Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday ... not a calendar in sight in Tuesdayville ...

If I had you sing Willie Nelson and Diana Krall, I think he'd like my cats ... another dewy damp morning with Captain Blackbeard at the helm ... no idea what the plant is, it blew into the garden in the same way the cats did ... 'no cats for me' says I 'just dogs', 5 cats (and counting) ... yesterday's Tuesday came and went and the rain fell bringing the next Tuesday with it ... all aboard for Tuesdayville ...

The man on the radio sings about rolling on by ... the weather continues in a haphazard manner confusing the garden, a sharp cold start today ... bright, bright moon last night has brought a stillness into our home ... turned the radio off to see what I could hear, tinnitus and distant traffic and one of the dogs chewing avidly on what's left of her toy ... the more I look at the word Tuesday the funnier it seems ...