Well. I hope so.
Where is spring? You may well ask.
Why have we taken so many photographs through the years. As we try to sort them we realise that most of it is pointless. So many are being destroyed. What a waste. But there are still the memories in the rest.
Diaries tell stories of events long forgotten, and give a flavour of events long passed.
Letters of sympathy, gratitude and engagement all bring back thoughts and feelings, deeply buried.
School exercise books tell a different story of achievement and failures. Lazy pupil and often lazy teachers. Sadness at opportunities missed.
Music at the weekend. Very grand at Wolterton Hall, home of the Walpole family. Puccini so beautiful that it brought tears to our eyes.
Daphne Ken Richard Helen Edward and Charlie at the weekend. Really lovely time. Family is important to our well being.
Long conversations with Hannah and Nick, Sue with Lucy. What must it have been like for our parents without this ability to talk for so long over such a distance for free? We live in a fantastic age.
But with that comes unreal expectation that all is well with the world.
I think as it becomes easier, so it is harder for we expect everything and yet should take nothing for granted.
Enough of these random thoughts. To bed.