It was a lovely sunny morning, but colder than it looked. The wind cut right through my wool jacket as I cycled into town, and on the way home my skirt blew up to my thighs. Not the best look for an old woman. Nor even for one wallowing deep in middle age.
I did a flower arrangement for the church yesterday for today’s service (there was a particular reason for this, as we don’t usually have flowers in Lent) and brought it home again afterwards., It’s pink, purple and white and looks very fresh and pretty. It’s giving me a good deal of pleasure.
I don’t plan to do anything much this afternoon. I’m going to lounge on the sofa and cuddle my dog, and read the papers and listen to music, unless Ro puts the television on. I’ve got loads of washing to do, but I don’t care. It can wait. The Sage has just told me it’s starting to rain, so I’ve got a valid reason to wait until tomorrow because washing can’t go on the line and if it can’t tomorrow either it would have to go in the drier, as I have nowhere indoors to hang washing to dry. Socks on the Aga, that is, but not a lot more.