One of my favourites from the archive. Not the first time that I have posted it here, but I make no apologies. The shoe which for several months remained on a ledge behind a shoe shop, has long been removed. I am glad that the photograph survives.
Bereavement is a word which, together with all the paraphernalia of death, I used when ever possible, to steer clear of. Confronted with the fact and the word I now accept it for what it is. We had two telephone lines Heidi and I because so many of her regular calls were overseas to her daughters and friends. Now that the time has come to close her BritishTelecom account, her daughters tell me that BT was able to assist her with the help of its "bereavement arm".
For the last few weeks the rain beating on to our front door, which faces south west into the prevailing wind, has warped the wooden frame. The lock wants to do one thing, the frame another. PMR has left my arm muscles ineffective The result when, on my own today for the first time, and I go for a walk I cannot on my return manage to open the door. Happily the gardener opposite is on hand to manoeuvre the offending aperture. It's good to be indoors.