…marked “Wimbledon”! Pretty doubtful I would say. (Can’t find a disappointed-cum-tennis emoji.) No golf competitions either, except……. We’re committed to a daily putting competition at lunch time. Twenty balls from 2.2 metres. Todays results: Her:17/20 (85%); Him 16/20 (80%) The landline rings. A UK number. Oh No! What’s happened? “Hello Mr Robin” says a voice with a heavy accent from the Asian subcontinent, “My name is Ryan. I’m calling from Micro… Continue reading →

…t in their best interests. My father had one most demanding patient; a well-to-do but unhappy lady in her sixties. Her only source of joy was her little dog that she deemed so handsome that she wanted to enter him into a show. She asked my father if he had advice about lightening the dark line down the little chap’s back; a feature she was sure would lose points. My father suggested seeing Mr Jones, the village chemist; he’d certainly have a suita… Continue reading →

…adically. We try to keep busy but moments of idleness are deliciously guilt-free. Obviously, with being here all the time, there’s more cleaning, cooking, washing and dishes to do. There’s more refuse to go out. Rarely opened cupboards have their contents scrutinised and thinned out. Keeping the apartment tidy is an ongoing and circular process. The kitchen has a new sourdough starter on the go called “Boris.” (For non-bread makers, setting off on… Continue reading →