They tell me that I need to get updated, go with the flow, embrace new technology, get down in cyberspace.  Humph, is what I say.  The old Terrier Diary worked perfectly well, with the odd little glitch to keep the Dad’s grey cells fizzing.  But no, all the others have migrated – is that the word they use; I thought it was something to do with swallows? – to these new-fangled WordPress operations, so apparently I have to do the same.  Mindless conformity.  And that blasted new assistant of mine, Marco il gatto, is no help whatsoever, unless one has a peculiar yearning for half-dead frogs and mice and games of snail football across the dining room floor.  (Actually snail football is quite fun, but don’t tell him I said so.)