I just realised that I haven't told you that Husband came home from hospital yesterday. He's very fragile but happy to be home. I tried to persuade him to come for a walk with us this morning - meaning he could sit outside the cafe while we walked around the cliffs - but he decided he'd rather sit in the sun in the garden.
Not entirely a duff decision as it was like Debenhams on a sale day around the cliffs. I've said it before but I'll say it again: you get a much nicer class of person walking the cliffs when it's a miserable day. Best of all is when it's wet, wild and windy. Then you get the loopy ones who grin while saying, 'better batten down the hatches,' and 'lovely weather for ducks,' and the like. I kept smiling cheerily and greeting fellow walkers and only poked my tongue out at those who ignored me.
What was slightly perplexing is that some who blanked me said hello to George. It's not as if I were looking particularly scruffy: I could even have shown them my knickers matching my t-shirt if they'd asked. But nobody asked.
1 comment:
Glad Mike is home. Sometimes it takes coming home to heal. And time.
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