I miss Colin but not baking
It would have been my late husband Colin’s 73rd birthday last Thursday and on the day, I couldn’t get hold of myself.
I felt weepy and just wanted to be on my own to think and cry, then have another think and a cry.
I haven’t cried as much on his birthday before but lockdown gave me more time to think. It was pouring rain and my legs were bad, so my son Jonathan went to Colin’s grave and sent me a picture. I started to think about how we’d celebrated Colin’s birthday in the past. I was very kind to him and didn’t bake a birthday cake. Although I make a nice cup of tea, no one has ever thanked me for a cake. I once tried to make lemon tops for Robert and Jonathan’s school fayre. They looked such a sight, I sent Jonathan to run to the shop to buy two boxes of Mr Kipling so I wouldn’t show myself up.
And once they’d gone to school, I sat down and ate all the cakes I made.
Well, I didn’t want anyone to see them so what else could I do?
Youths will end up looking tatty
There’s one aspect of modern life I just can’t take to: tattoos.
How will young people feel when
they get soggy arms like mine and there’s a lion on them?
The finial word in stylish decoration
My neighbour Beryl rang me this week and said: “I like your balls.”
That’s the sandstone balls on my new garden wall now the builders have replaced the acorn finials.
My neighbour Chris painted the railings and the outside is looking shipshape... just as it’s getting nippy and I’ll be spending more time indoors.