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Dad liked the 3d pop-up card that I got him for his 93rd Birthday. There are deckchairs on the piece.
It reminded him of our holidays in Abersoch, Wales.
The deckchairs on the card are red. The one on Aunty Marion's card is blue: set in an allotment. On holiday in Abersoch, we had the traditional windbreaker and, two striped deckchairs, one red, one blue... He remembered.

And, I received an invite to the clinic who's acting with our local practice, looking for people with COPD. I did seriously consider it, as the letter suggested the firm has a clinic on Merseyside and, they did offer reasonable travelling expenses: [albeit I don't think they'd run to a taxi and, that's how I travel mainly, now]. Anyway, I looked up the place on the interweb thingie and, the nearest to me was Chorley, [voice rises to a screech] I mean, you need a passport to go there, it's not merseyside and anyway, when I went to see the sister at our practice as my chest was bad [after the cold]she gave me doxycicllin. And then, the next day, after a pleasant evening with friends, I woke with my difestion shot to hell, my joints aching [due to the wind] and my cyst giving me more gyp than I was prepapred for. So, I'd gone a walk and, revelled in the fact I still could...

And talking of doing as one can, as soon as the weather became less wet, Dad was out in the back, up the old wooden step ladders, to trim a tree over the hedge, that shuts out light from our garden. Now, I had warned him the soil was to wet, so when he eventually told me what happened, I had not been at all surprised.

He had been reaching up with the shears, to reach a branch and the ladders twisted in the wet soil and he fell, into the hedge. And then he wondered about a sore hip a few days later.

And talking of people doing as they can...

I'm not good with mornings, what with my aching joints and slow digestion. But, I'd decided on a mission; so a mission would be had...

I went to Azda in Bromborough for six in the morning, to see if I could get Dad's Garibaldi and cereal. Well, I got there and the taxi pulled away and then, I saw the sign in the door 'Open at 8'.

So there I stood in the empty complex, all on my own. So I'd walked, stopping to chat with the odd sods out that early, like me. Occasionally I'd see cars pulling into the Azda car part, someone get out, see the sign and pull away. That had happened a lot.

Then I got tired, so sat on a wall and watched others gather, mostly older women initially.
They chatted amiably enough, settling into little groups, almost all with a shoppiing trolley with them. "Well, the website said they'd be open at six," said one. "Well, Boris said, on teevee last night, no supermarket should open before eight," said another and, I had noticed the crowd around me getting much bigger, as it got nearer to eight o'clock.
Then, needless to say, there'd been a bottle neck at the one open door, as so many people with trolleys had made an effort to enter, all-at-once. Granted though, it was fairly good natured. Yet I could easily see something like that getting out of control easily, even with a guard on the door. Anyway... Once inside it was a tad eerie, limited stock on the shelves and the occasional reminder over the tannoy, "Customers can only purchase three of each item."

Having been asked to show someone Dads card, I set out to photograph it, only to learn that my camera would no longer see the laptop.

Then the day after I picked up my mouthguard for my lower set from the dentists, what did I do, but lose my false teeth, so had to admit my crass stupidity to the dentist. That I had not enjoyed, at all.

As I lay abed and reached for one of the many tins littering the floor, I found the one with my jelly babies in it and, my teeth...

I was out shopping, as I seem to a lot and, passing the florist a certain little plant on the pavement outside caught my eyes. I went in and asked the saleswoman if she was come outside with me and tell me more of it: It had a lovely mauve flower with white tips and, it just reminded me of my late Mother. It turned out to be a Cyclamen and, it had been one of her favourites, so got bought. She had wrapped it in brown paper for me and, I'd proudly taken it home...

I still can't get my head round the idea of fistbumping.
albeit, I respect all and, did it the other day.

On my walk on a sunny Monday after housework, I'd step aside, for dog-walkers and others: just a matter of respect. Innit?