In the sunshine a walk to the fishmonger is a step towards normality. Clams for a spaghetti a la vongole and Mackerel for tomorrow. Swinging my arms and moving my hips may seem to be insignificant gestures but are harbingers of an unaccustomed freedom. Yesterday I was complaining to the GP about my condition. Today I am doing something about it.
We are taken to a country pub for a drive and lunch. "Heliotrope," says Pam, supplying the name me of the pink flower on the verge. Winter heliotrope. A garden escape which explains why a number of wild flower books don't feature it, though it is now fairly common on roadsides in the south of England. It flowers from January to March. I like the name. So exotic sounding for a Sussex lane.