It's a year ago today that Uncle died and it was forty-six years on Monday that my mum died.
The photo is from 1970, the occasion, my grandparents' golden wedding, the location the Park Inn in Mumbles.
On lighter topics, I seemed to wake about hourly last night and one time when I woke the thought that sprang unbidden to my mind was: it's a jolly good thing Hitler didn't win the war. A profound if slightly mystifying thought from my sleep-deprived brain.
Maybe it was that same sleep deprivation that caused me to cough and say, 'Ahem,' to the intermittent windscreen wiper to remind it to do its job.
Such is life.
Daughter's birthday tomorrow and this afternoon I prepared a cake for the grandchildren to decorate when they came for tea after school. St Delia would not approve of my messy cooking habits I'm sure. Husband is convinced I set myself the target of using every pan in the house when I cook. (I don't; it just happens that way.) This is my average mess before today's disaster.
And after the disaster.
It even landed on my boots!