An Apology, A Royal Deathbed And A Lucky Strike

"Who were you saying 'sorry' to in the middle of the night?" asked Ailz.

"No idea," I said.

There are lots of people out there I should be saying 'sorry' to, but I can't remember any of them appearing in my dreams.

All I do remember is a brief incident where I'd accompanied some friends to the glitzy restaurant/hospital where the Queen Mother lay dying in an upstairs room. They went up to see her. I said, "I'll stay down here because I didn't really know her..."

My early morning routine includes doing Wordle on the NYT site. Today a word popped into my head and I thought,"That's unlikely word for them to choose but one has to start somewhere..." Got it in one!

Cleaning The Gutters

Grass is growing in the gutters below where the pigeons sit. They must be the ones dropping the seed- one way or another- and so it's my fault for feeding them. Ailz bought me a telescopic, pokey, hooky thing on a stick- because I don't climb ladders beyond the second or third rung- and I've been working it blind from a window on the first floor. Once you start getting results it's hard to stop, but it was coffee time so I did. Manual work, so long as it's not done under duress, becomes addictive. Your body gets into the groove and wants to keep going. And, of course, there are rewards- in this case the satisfying plop as a clump of grass with muddy roots hits the concrete paving below...

And now I must get back to work.