My hopes for being a Euro millionaire have faded into obscurity, like my poem, Pipe Dream. I have walked Wendell, tidied, prepared tonight’s dinner, done the washing, read my book for a while, commented on peoples posts and now I am bored. I think I may play one of my war games in a minute but I fear that may bore me even more. This is the main problem with not working for a living. When I was a kitchen manager, I had no time to be bored; quite the opposite. My days were rigidly structured and I felt useful, full of vigour and occupied to the hilt. Oh well, back to more thumbs twiddling…sigh!