It’s all lovely and springlike suddenly. All sorts of flowers in bloom, the sun shining, chickens laying lots of eggs, all that sort of thing. Kenny called round to see the children – he used to be our gardener (he called himself the OJB – Odd Job Boy) for many years, only giving up in his mid-eighties. I think he’ll be 89 this June and he doesn’t get about too well now because he’s got bad back trouble. He’s in good health but in constant pain, which he’ll only admit to if asked specifically. Ro was a baby when we first knew him. He told us that his great-granddaughter, who’s in her early 20s, is expecting her first baby later in the year. Gosh. Isn’t that amazing? I only knew one of my grandparents, who lived a long way away and didn’t, as a child, realise what I missed. To have so many generations living within a few miles of each other is something to be treasured. Not that it’s a huge family; Kenny and Muriel had two children, only one of whom had two children, only one of whom had two children so they’re not responsible for a population explosion, even over several decades.