Limped trembling through the frozen grass

I went to a meeting in the village, only 3 of us remembered to go so it was more of a chat with coffee and chocolates. Our host’s garden has a gap in the hedge to Lorna’s drive, you cut through her garden, then across Sybil’s lawn and by her garage to the road. Which is good if you carry a torch and I, recklessly, don’t. There’s a hard frost and no lights and I stumbled into trees and flowerbeds. The new moon lounged negligently on her back and, once back on the road, I walked with my head thrown back so that I could pick out the constellations. A barn owl hooted from the other side of the field.

I like walking in the dark and I think it’s a pity that street lighting stays on all night.

I still haven’t found the CD changer. I am going to have to admit defeat and ask at the garage. I must remind myself that being laughed at is good for me.

My television licence reminder came today. It offers, as an alternative to the full price yearly licence, the short-term licence for 74 year olds, which seemed a little pessimistic at first sight. Of course, pro rata until you are entitled to a free one at 75. Well, that’s something to look forward to. Or there’s the Blind Concession. It makes one quite grateful to be eligible to pay the full price.

It is, as of Wednesday, Lent and several of my friends, more sincere and less self-indulgent than I, have given up treats, most of them chocolate or alcohol. I haven’t. I volunteered to give up Big Macs but it was felt unlikely that this was a serious deprivation for me, although I protested that I’d eaten one in January.

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