Worrying, patience and taking control

Bit of this

Her house is filled with light and radio 2 blasting so loudly I can hear it above the hoover. She is 91 today. Sugar spun hair frames her face, as she peers up at me, I am reminded of a friendly fluffy cat. She worries about getting stranded in the bath because "I don't have body beautiful any more". As I look at her face in the soft light I regret not being able to paint. (Shall have to pluck up courage to suggest camera, know perfectly well wouldn't do her justice though).

My patience has been rewarded, have just potted up primrose seedlings. (least thats what I think they are).

I am not going to do what he wants me to. Waste of time, I reclaim an hour and a half.

Bit of that

Purrfect