Tim in the shop (as far as I am concerned, there is only one shop in Yagnub and it sells fruit’n’veg) told me this afternoon that Angela has died today. She was the town Mayor, in apparently robust health in May when she was elected, but ill – though still fighting – since the summer. We had all gathered, however, that it was only a matter of time. A lovely woman, anyone who met her both loved and respected her, she will be so greatly missed and the Sage and I, with her other friends, will miss her.
A family lunch tomorrow. The Sage was intending to go target shooting with Ro in the morning and then on to an appointment in Ipswich. Then Ro cried off because he has a bad cold (or man flu, how can one tell?) and now the Sage has cried off the appointment too. So, having planned lunch on the basis of no one being available to put things in the oven at specified times, it’s too late to change and I’m all ready anyway. Lasagne and trifle, darlings. Sounds good to me.
Zoƫ
Sent from my iPhone
Lasagne? Mmmmm! Got any extra?
Absolutely, darling. I always cook for half a dozen extra. Come along and join us.
It’s not polite to die on my WitchDay. Little Brown Hen did too.
They can keep each other company henceforward.
Hopefully not on the same plate! UGH!
I’m so glad my birthday is 10th September and not the next day.
Well, no, John. What sort of oiks do you think we are?