It’s a good thing..

.. my imminently visiting sister doesn’t read this, because a) she’d discover that when him next door & I put the folding bed  back together, we were missing 4 bolts;  and b) she’d know how worried I am about this Wednesday’s ultrasound.

That lovely milkman has started dropping hints – he wants his bottles back.  He’ll soon realise I don’t give up without a fight.

 

 

 

 

No cameras allowed in Kensington Palace.  Pah.  Here’s the only decent (Vivienne Westwood) dress in the entire poorly curated ‘Enchanted Palace’ exhibition.

Ridiculously twee repro Victorian spoon from the gift shop, and a conker that plopped at my feet in Hyde Park:

In the Indian kitchen today:  some parvals in need of cooking before they wrinkle; two Ronak pickles (what is synthetic vinegar?); some drumsticks and in the background my lovely late teacher & a brace of grandparents.

 

Letter from my consultant: “most likely benign”.. just keep repeating this until you know different.