Fish Suppers and The Old Man

So I'm so sorry to have taken a while to get back to you.

You know I been busy, busy, busy for weeks now. The Old Man crisis have kept me running up 'n' down all the time.

The Old Man looks more frail in some ways than immediately after the heart operation. But he is more stable. His feet are no longer fairytale. They could get into any old slipper. He gets stronger everyday. He is talkin', talkin', talkin'.

Me? I'm so tired, it has to be said. But people have been great, you know? People have been great.

This week I had some help from Photo-Girl of Bath. The girl is very fond of a fish. To eat, you understand. And so with a sigh of relief I left the supper time feeding of the Old Man to Photo-Girl - who rushed around on buses sizing up the local produce and makin' him fish suppers. Puttin' those brain cells back in his bonce. Third day, Jimmy the Fish came visiting. Bearing some mackerel he had caught. So she whisked them away and cooked them up. Servin' em up with potatoes, onions and chorizo. Old Man's eyes popped out at such exotic food.

Me. I just kept making myself little chick pea stews with carrot and tatie and sultanas and onion and broad bean and lemon juice and chilli and ras-el-hanout.

Finally I was able to get out into that jungle of a garden. To plant out some desperate courgette plants. And sow some far too late beans, corn and squash.

Last morning of Photo-Girl's stay, I marched her up the nearby hill. Great day. Bees buzzing all over the heather up there. Miles and miles of view. And the sea on the north coast and the sea on the south coast at the same time. Because we's a narrow little neck of land here. A narrow little neck of land.