Reading matters

The satnav enquired, when we were just past Diss, if we would like to save 9 minutes on the journey? I had already turned down a saving because it would have taken us on the A12 and, therefore, a longer time on the M25 and that has no appeal. But i said yes to this offer. I’m not sure we really saved any time by going through Botesdale, Garboldisham, Redgrave and other pleasant villages, but it’s a pretty route through to the A11 near Thetford and we were quite happy.

The house is becoming unnaturally tidy. Not that it was untidy before, but anything that might look cluttered in a photograph has been put away. Tomorrow morning, more housework, a meeting with the agent here, a visit to his office (Wink, having been an estate agent office manager, suggested this) and then we can relax until we’re picked up for dinner.

I feel all over the place. At one time, on the way, I thought of Tim and had the happy warm feeling that I was on the way to him. i hadn’t forgotten that he had died so much as reacted that he was still alive. This was painful, not comforting. But it is to be expected, i have a long way to go before comfort and I don’t mean to complain or ask for sympathy. i just note how i feel.

I have been in touch with my friend Sophie. The poor innocent has shown an interest in sourdough and I have offered to take her some starter. She used to live round the corner and is now an hour away. I haven’t seen her for about ten years and look forward to visiting.

She mentioned that she appreciated the invitations, every time we asked friends over, after her husband died far too young. i remembered my mother, widowed at 46, whose social life dried up because she made an odd number. She didn’t fit. Though people were still happy to be invited to our house. I like odd numbers, myself. Especially if they’re prime.

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