My bones are aching as I have had an extremely active day. A slightly dodgy character turned up this morning and offered to do some gardening. I know him of old. He has a tendency to go wild when he has a pair of shears or clippers in his hands and cuts down everything in sight. So I had to work with him, mostly in the rain. The garden is now transformed. He wears very short shorts and big boots and he has strong sturdy legs. He tells me that he often sleeps in the
bus shelter up near the cemetery which he says is very cosy. At eight am the gate is unlocked so he goes into the cemetery gents and has a good wash.
I was collapsed in the kitchen, covered in mud, thinking I might lie on the sofa for a nap when three friends walked in. We had arranged to play some music. I had forgotten and my heart sank, but in fact it refreshed my spirits to play a bit of Handel and Telemann, and it was good to sit down for an hour.
People keep recoiling in horror when they see my black eye. I have invented several terrible stories to account for it.