They call me the wanderer.

Not in a physical sense (painful heel!) but in a state of mind way. The grief of losing a friend keeps creeping up on me and sends my thoughts in many random directions. Even dead heading the daffs suddenly becomes pertinent; She won't be able to dead head the daffs anymore, did she even like them? I can't remember, does that make me a bad friend? On and on it goes. Maybe when a funeral is allowed things will change.
   Darling daughter the elder and her lovely husband have moved into a new house- in a VILLAGE! As a lifelong town dweller, this is proving a real eye opener. People talk to you, not just "Hi weather weather weather", But proper conversation talking with questions that require answers! Tis very strange, but rather nice.
  Our dawgs have discovered the delights of spring. The springer (aged 10) has suddenly discovered an urge to mate with  the Sprollie ( nearly 2), As they are both chaps this is becoming a bit awkward, Poor Len (the Sproll) thinks pervy uncle Budge wants to play. Pervy uncle Budge has other ideas...
  The husband has some holiday booked so that's a nice treat to come, We did think of going to Yorkshire, specifically Richmond, but will probably do that in the autumn for our wedding anniversary. Thirty years of being married to the craziest, funniest, most dependable and humane person I've ever met.
 I'll see thee.

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