Yesterday young granddaughter J and I visited the beach again for me to assess how many more steps are indicated. The conclusion, alas, is some ten to fifteen.
On the way J chatted to a cat from one of the local resident’s houses, then visited the beach to scratch for shells (a poor tide for it), and finally enjoyed the l … o …. n … g swing once more.
I was, in the meantime, admiring some of the dune vegetation coming into bloom. Amazing how they thrive in gardener nightmare conditions.
Much of today has been taken up with taking Much Better Half to the doctor to get the biotic that is bugging her anti-ed. Then for an X-ray — just in case. Ballet for young J, and should have been swimming for R but she did a great job of skinning a knee at netball, so that was out. I kept starting the fitting of tiles and rocks and other chores but never quite got anything done before the next imperative cropped up. Ah, well. sailor Vee … I mean, c’est la vie. At least I secured a bird feeder the monkeys had disrupted. They also disrupted the kitchen, as it happens, and made off with much fruit loot.