See - just crying out for a table...
But something must be done about the swamp outside (formerly, lawn).
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Frankly, I am rather proud of my ingenuity.
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Where was I? Where am I? Home! Hospital receptionist called 10.10am, "Mr Trustworthy has just informed me he can't stay in clinic". Dare not ask nature of grim emergency taking him elsewhere. So, rescheduled for 21st; diverted a very understanding GG (would-be escort du jour); abandoned my waiting room bag (I've really mastered the art now - minimal reading matter, because I can't, small water bottle, because they have a dispenser, cut-out dolls, because they help me avoid eye contact with other outpatients, but keep me free enough to converse with companion).
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Time to unpack the Sainsburger's delivery very, very slowly. And endeavour to do as little as possible for the rest of the day.
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