Jim has been off today getting his VHF licence (I meanwhile wrote 2,833 words not counting these). I am not sure precisely what he is planning to do with it, although the fact that he has been going around the house for the last few days muttering 'Trent Lock, Trent Lock, Trent Lock' under his breath is not necessarily reassuring.
(Isn't that an American senator, I wondered, delighted at the coincidence, until I realised a bit later that the senator's surname was actually Lott. I was at school with a girl called Susan Lott who was rather uncharitably known as 'Gibbon' because whenever she knew the answer (which was frequent) she wouldn't just put her hand up, but would stretch wildly towards the ceiling, bounce up and down on her chair, and go 'ooh, ooh, ooh'. Gosh. I hope neither she nor anyone who knows her is reading this.)
What it means in the short term is that Jim and Moomin will have new toys to play with at Bill Fen next week.