The face of grief

People I don't know are being especially kind to me. On Monday I went to the photo shop to get a print of a photo of my mother, and the girl in there, who is usually briskness personified - but not unpleasantly so - was patient and kind.

Today I went to see a cabinet maker who was exactly like a grey-haired Chippy Minton in Trumpton, and he too seemed to sense I needed gentle handling. When I got home I asked Dave if there was something about my face at the moment that makes me look sad.

Dave - who has been kindness, softness, patience and love, all rolled up in a parcel - said "Yes."

"What does it look like, then?" I said.

"It looks like a pumpkin the day after Hallowe'en."

"What?"

"All right, it looks like something that NASA would orbit, looking for water."