I have been away in Winchester: seeing old friends, having tasty meals, talking, and talking. I drove there and back in the rust bucket, my faithful Nissan Micra. It's a toss-up as to which will last longer; me or the car. I also went to a splendid 60th wedding anniversary party in the wilds of Dorset, driven there by someone else. Everybody looked unchanged and remarkably young. That may have been due to my failing eyesight.
I came home to find that I couldn't get into my email. IIt wouldn't accept what I thought was my password. I battled with it for four days and then Josie solved the problem in an instant 'tho this involved phoning son Toby in Penang; don't ask me why.
I was invited to the hospice which is quite nearby, and have signed up to go every Friday to the Wellbeing Centre. I can go to an art group in the morning and a poetry group in the afternoon with a slap-up lunch in between. I am looking forward to it.
I'm going to make blackcurrant jam now with fruit from Josie's allotment.
Vicky
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