April has been somewhat of a disaster, starting with Covid. Both lethargic for a couple of weeks, especially in the middle of the afternoon. We are now both over 75, so a quick post-lunch zzz is ok.
I still have a strange sensation in my mouth, but taste is back. Something to do with my bright or otherwise remarks.
Then last week, gastroenteritis. Horrid 48 hours.
Sandwiching a great week in Scarborough - see next blog.
Snatching what time we had in the good weather. Variety of seating and bulbs. Turned back to winter today.
The frog comes out for a sunbathe on warm days. We've had a male pheasant for a while. First time for a female. Must be related.
The birthday alien outside his new shed. Already serious scalp abrasions, so Jenson crafted a warning notice and the family bought me a crash hat. Perfect.
So the new shed. Old fart's delight. The old plastic garden store blew away in storm whatsit. Same one that turned the lights out in Alnmouth.
Shelving from James Walsh. Too high, now minus the top one which has plants on.
Pockets from our defunct camping equipment. Helmet from the Bancrofts. Also sign from Emily - 'My shed, my rules'.
Carol Midgley. Times, April 23. Not one for new age approach to getting older, she is having a rethink after Corrie's William Roach approaches 90.
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