On Saturday Uncle made himself a bacon sandwich for the first time since he fell and broke his hip about this time last year: in his new apartment he can get into the kitchen.
Yesterday he ate all his cawl and dumpling followed by jelly for lunch, and bacon, egg, fried bread and tomatoes for dinner. And he took himself out on his mobility scooter, having made it down to the garage using his zimmer frame.
I was very pleased that he ate properly (his appetite has been very poor for some time) and he was delighted that he'd made it out on his own. 'I feel free again,' he said.
Last summer he was talking about wishing he were dead and saying he was no use to anyone but just a burden. It seemed almost unlikely that he'd make it to his 90th birthday in December. The way he is now I can see him getting a telegram from the Queen/King on his 100th.
They make 'em tough in Mumbles.