Still beautiful days. The garden is a jungle.
Been trying to straighten up the spare bedroom. Waiting for an old friend who is driving down from London to give succour and support.
Forgot to tell Farmer Jones that the Old Man's chillies are setting fruit. Of course.
Not only setting. The first fruit is a good three inches long. Hot Thai.
The Old Man did want me to tell him. So proud of "his" chillies. Aah. The spirit of competition lives.
I roll my eyes as I think of the patient moving in and out of the sunlounge of the pots and pots of plants. Of the watering. Of the greenfly ridding.
By whom - this last couple of weeks?
But The Old Man looks and sounds stronger today. And in fact has peered at the notes for one of his new drugs - through my borrowed glasses - and managed to read that the drug can effect eyesight.
The Old Man had been feeling increasingly wobbly too.
Then he spotted that the drug can affect balance as well.
A look of determination came over the Old Man's newly gap-toothed face. A steely glance behind my reading glasses perched on his nose.
Methinks he is warming up the spit and vinegar.
Methinks he will be having a "chat" with the doctors.