|Me? Go outside? You must be joking.|
A week ago today I was strolling in the park in the sunshine, almost throwing caution to the wind and taking off my cardigan. Today, however, it was snowy then slushy and continuously cold. Cyril had the best idea (see above).
The weather scuppered the other-half’s plans to spend the afternoon at the allotment and instead he went shopping for an airtight jug for storing juice which fits into our fridge. Now you may think that this is something of a yawnfest. But let me tell you this quest has proved to be much more arduous than you might have thought. In fact, in years to come I think legends will be written about his trek from the wastes of Tesco to the high seas of Lakeland to the fertile fields of the House of Fraser in search of the jug of dreams. In the end the gods smiled on him and he returned in full proud hunter/gatherer mode. Behold!
|Lo, the jug of dreams|
I had to go out to the hospital for a CT scan this morning. I was not particularly cheered by the radiologist saying (in what sounded like a concerned voice to me) “when do next see the oncologist?” I have read all sorts of meanings in to that question. I should get the results next week. Hey ho.
In the afternoon, I went for another reflexology session which was, yet again, fantastically relaxing. The hour whizzed by and I came away with feet smelling of orange/lavender/frankincense – anyone want a sniff?