Post 354: Beds, chairs and teriyaki tofu.
With tomorrow’s oncology meeting in mind I’m struggling to find anything concrete to note down to remember to say.
That’s a good problem to have but you never know what around the corner.
...
Post 353: Asking for help in the garden, and getting caught in the headlights.
Spring cleaning has to be one of the strangest — and most satisfying — urges of the year.
It just arrives.
Out of nowhere, there’s this pull to sort th...
Post 352: Old Mother Hen and some Volvo kindness.
With the care and loving attention of a rare-breed hen, I gathered my chocolate eggs onto the kitchen worktop — partly for safety, partly for display — but mostly because I was proud of t...
Post 351: Emotions on the tip of my tongue.
For three days in a row now I’ve been unable to hold back the tears, “but heaven knows I’m miserable now” — The Smiths.
Yesterday’s (blog) outpouring — poem or no...
Desperation lines.
(353:385)
(By Dysfunctional Dave)
Just roll over she says aloud, in front of all my friends.
But I think to myself that’s easy for you but I just can’t, it bloody hurts.
I now feel worse because deep inside I’v...
