The sky is blue now, but we’ve had sleet, hail and thunder. Indeed, the thunder is still rolling around now. I daresay it’ll clear up in time for us to spend an evening outside.
Wink rang an hour ago, she was only just off the M25, where the traffic is dreadful. She was at work this morning so wasn’t able to leave early as she normally would. I have a feeling that she’ll arrive just in time to change into wellies and leave for the party.
I’m supposed to be cooking tomorrow’s lunch. Well, I have, largely. I’ve made a beef casserole. But I’ve got pudding to make and a ratatouille to cook. I rather fancy chocolate cake, but Wink can’t eat chocolate, so if I do that I’ll have to do something else too. And if there’s an alternative, some people will want that and so I’ll have to do enough … hm. Anyway, while I’m mulling it over, I’ll write here, and then I’ll make the ratatouille and by then I’ll have decided.
Ah, it’s raining again.
I don’t think I mentioned, Wink’s friend Kamala is over from India at present. They met in London last week, I’d decided against going because the baby had just been born – well, I’d said I couldn’t make plans because the baby hadn’t arrived and then wanted to be on hand. It was just as well I didn’t go, the trains were delayed in the morning and I’d have been late. They want to meet again on Wednesday, so I can be free then. I’ve got a meeting in the evening, but someone else will take notes for me. There’s a funeral I’d said I would go to in the morning, so I’ll have to give my apologies. It is one of the people I deliver meals on wheels to, he had been in hospital a month and I think we all knew from the start that he had reached the end of his life. He’d had a long and happy one, it’s no tragedy except to his wife, now nearing 90. She is a dear old lady and has a loving family, their daughter lives in the same road, does her cleaning and has lunch every day with her and a grandson in Norwich visits every week.
The Sage has brought me a cup of tea and is going off on my bike to give some bantam eggs to a neighbour, another gentleman in his nineties. It’s not raining any more. I’d better get back to my cooking.