Saturday, 16 February 2019

A flavour...

of my weekend.

My socks: I have taken an executive decision to wear and then throw away.  Extravagant some might say?
However I have decided before the council come round and decide a blue plaque is required on my sock drawer, I need to act, grade 2 listed antiquities they most definitely ain’t!  Although by dint of age they could so easily be.

After making sweet potato and chorizo soup and fruit scones to take on the dreaded visit, Audrey cancelled on us. Her very swollen legs have taken a knock on a friend’s car door, if the skin breaks she is going to hospital! Our visit postponed until tomorrow maybe?  Then will she be strong enough to hear what we have to say?  I doubt it?

Tonight, Hubs is making us a romantic steak supper, I may even
 sip on a wee glass of red wine.

Two books bought this morning from the local hospice shop, in readiness for our week long road trip between Hythe and Ludlow.

This one, reading it in order to whet my appetite ready for the off, I have the distinct impression I’ve read it.  The prose fair jumps of the page.  I will read a tad more, then if I have, it will go back for another person to spend a pound on reading a master storyteller’s tale.

Don’t look now but this mindfulness discipline is having a huge effect.  I ought to say here discipline and LL aren’t natural 
bedfellows; all my life I have 
made an art form of being cantankerous... Go with the flow? Not on your nelly!

Apart from a smartish march up to the shops, that and me leaning over to turn the amaryllis round, as it will keep insisting on growing towards the sea. I am so tempted to tell it, life won’t be any better in France than it is right here.  Got a feeling it will  take not one jot of notice!
This will be all I will do today, especially as we are well on with the packing.  Just eight weeks to go...


  1. My head is singing "and around and around and around!" all afternoon. Now it is singing "up so many floating bells down". I don't like that! I have an orchid ten years old. Each year it grows one new leaf at the top and discards the opposite from the bottom. It grows one flower stalk, and all the little blossoms bloom, then fall away, one by one. It takes a very long time. Like meeting up with Audrey.

    1. My dandelion clock is ticking... one o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock... The only thing growing around here is the worry.


  2. Do you think she might have an inkling of your impending move and is putting off any possibility of being informed? If she doesn't hear it from you, then it won't happen . . . . maybe?

    1. No, she is one hell of a mighty woman. She is I am afraid to say dying and not ready to accept any help. Added to which she is doing it her way, which I totally admire. Yesterday again I phoned to see whether we could go to help and shop on way, she phoned back later to say she wasn’t well and was going back to bed. What can you do? Especially as I have always said I would respect her decision. We are now at the end game, every day/night I expect a call. It has been like this for two years! My health is now suffering with the worry of it all; I try not to let it but unfortunately it does! We will see what today Monday brings and if we go, should we then tell her of our plans two months away?



I do like a bit of...

old tat!  I honestly wish I didn’t but there you are! Yesterday I escaped the clutches of the oozing sourdough starter, quite a feat I do...