I’m doing little jobs at present.  I’ve written to Norwich Castle Museum to take Russell off our joint Friends’ list, I’ve phoned the theatre to change his name to mine (when we became Friends, it was in his name because he was over 60 and then I wasn’t) – things like that.  My accountant is calling in on Friday to sort out more things.  The car started easily this morning as there wasn’t a frost (the appalling weather that has hit some places isn’t in East Angular, which is usually temperate and more-or-less lovely) and I took it to the garage, walked back into town and Dilly picked me up.  Hay and I made cakes and he decorated them most beautifully.  
And then, when I offered him a cake, he chose one of the simplest!  He’s a darling little boy and I’ve really missed our weekly Mondays.

It’s the ordinary treats that I love with my grandchildren – that is, the opportunities to devote myself to them, but not in a spectacular, once a year fashion, because I’m so lucky enough to live reasonably close to them and I’m not a remote figure, however much loved.  They can take me for granted, which is more of a privilege than it sounds.

Tonight, I roasted a brace of partridges.  I was just dishing them up when the outside light came on – it was the delivery of my new shoes (I’ve finally succumbed to buying shoes online, darlings, we must blame Zig) – and not Roses, who I had half-thought might arrive in time for supper.  However, I was eating in the sitting room in front of the fire when she did arrive home, so I quickly cooked some more greens and gave her the second partridge.  I do like having her living next door and we suit each other very nicely – that is, I feel it and I hope she does – we can call on each other at any time but don’t feel offish if we don’t hear from or see each other for several days.  We’re both pretty self-reliant, but appreciative of support.  Pretty good, I think.

Oh, and nice Graham from lovely garage delivered the car back just when I needed it.  Truly, it’s a fine garage and I appreciate the fact that I know I can rely on them.

Tomorrow, an early meeting and then I’m out for lunch.  The latter should be fun but will be a bit sad.  Our dear friend Marian is gravely ill and, at nearly 97, a recovery – even survival – is very unlikely.   I shall miss her very much.