March 11th, 2019

A Windy Morning

 It's been blowing hard for several days, but not as hard as in Tunbridge Wells according to Kristina, my mother's carer. Elsewhere trees have been coming down, here it's only twigs. I ventured out to pick some of the debris off the path and drive, but quickly hurried back in because- though the sun is shining invitingly, that wind is cold.

Kristina is Bulgarian, but has lived in South Africa. Her father is a clockmaker- and responsible for the upkeep of the civic clocks in a couple of picturesque Bulgarian towns. (I know they are picturesque because I looked at pictures online).  She is tall and blonde, dresses in black slacks and polo neck (like Ilya Kuryakin) and knows a lot about dogs. My mother was watching coverage of Crufts and Kristina could identify all the breeds- including many I'd never heard of. She loves all kinds of animals- and was telling us how in South Africa the monkeys would come down into the garden and her little dog would chase them. 

I'll go out shortly and feed the birds- but this time I'll wear my coat and cap.