First world neighbour with contactless fish

So I jotted down a list of things I wanted to remember to blog about. No, I haven't lost the list; I'm just explaining why this post will be a bit all over the place.

First on the list is fish. (Stop and think for a minute to work out what that means. Ah yes.) In the supermarket I bumped into a woman I used to work next to in our old exercise class. We were both choosing fish. She had smoked haddock and planned to serve it with a poached egg and rice. "That sounds nice," I said, and then I bought cod, new potatoes, and a tub of hollandaise sauce. Which is why she is skinny and I'm . . . not.

It's a bad time of year for tree seeds. The surface of our pool is covered in them. First world, middle class problem. Rich enough to have a pool, not rich enough to have a poolboy to scoop them up for you.

Every morning at about 7.40 our next door but one neighbour goes out to his car and makes a phone call. We hear it ringing. Husband thinks he's phoning his mother in Greece. I doubt he'd do that every day.

I'm doing banking in my Duolingo Welsh lessons. Contactless is ddigyffwrdd. One vowel, all those non-vowels - consonants, that's it. Unless you count y as a vowel. Then you've got daearyddiaeth, meaning geography. No wonder I struggle.

Thank you, Arctic Fox, for reminding me that my red plant was called Heuchera. This one was planted in the same bed at the same time but didn't get the tlc that the red one received.

It was looking even more pathetic but more light and space seems to be making it happy.