Letter from home

Dave has always hated being away from home, and has had to be dragged on holiday. 

Now he never goes anywhere, so I have to make my own fun. That’s fine. I can do that. But this year it feels as though I’ve overdone it. I have had a lot of short trips, more than I’ve ever done before. 

I went to London in January

with our daughter to see two wonderful exhibitions and The Mousetrap;

To Wensleydale with my sibs;

To Wensleydale with Liz;

To Pembrokeshire with Liz;

To Cornwall to visit Het;

To Winchester on another short sibs get-together;

and lastly to Scarborough with Chrissie.

It’s been a bit mad. And a bit much. 

And it’s a weird and huge relief to know I’m not going anywhere for the next two months, and nothing is planned beyond that. You’ll have to watch this space to see if I am climbing the walls by January, because winter here can get a bit much.

Anyway, today I am going to see an art demo and take part in a workshop. I’m slightly nervous because I don’t like painting in the company of other people. And I don’t like painting in a hurry. I am a very slow painter. And very messy. They will be horrified when they see my protective gear. (Ignore the pyjama trousers - it’s still early!)

Oh well. It will be challenging. And that’s a good thing when you’re ancient (77), isn’t it?