Awaiting the sock

I cleaned the bathroom this morning and while my back was turned Husband was in the garden. Up a ladder with a chainsaw cutting dripping wet trees.

"I've made it to seventy-five years old doing stupid things," he gave as an excuse.

It's a bit disheartening. It took me hours and hours to cut back the bushes and clear the fence; he thinned and cleared branches on the right in ten minutes with a chain-saw. But, still, he shouldn't have been doing it!

Other big news: I sorted out my sock drawer this morning. And I did a rash thing: I threw away an odd sock. Now I'm on tenterhooks waiting for the matching one to appear.

Then walked with Elder Son, GrandSon3, and Toby in Parc Le Breos, and visited the longest cave in Gower, over a mile long. 

Elder Son told me he'd been for an eye test - and nearly fainted. No genetic testing needed to prove he's my son. I thought I was the only person who could nearly faint at the optician's.

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Finally I have downloaded and printed off a petition to take to church tomorrow. It's to send to our MP to ask him to vote against the assisted dying bill, third reading on June 20th. I am not entirely opposed to the idea but it's the way the bill has been rushed through and lots of safety measures abandoned on the way that concerns me.

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Dinner tonight was Marry Me Pasta. 

A creamy chicken and spinach pasta dish. Very nice but I don't think I'd propose to the chef.