The dark crooked finger of . . .
. . . . . widowhood beckoned (briefly) this afternoon. My belovéd was out in the back garden, doing manly things involving a hedge trimmer, when he cut through its cable. We have a circuit breaker but he hadn't plugged it in. GULP. He is fine (I am still wobbly) and eventually I thought 'Yeah! Christmas present!' only to be told he will have this one repaired (it was his late mum's). He is in the bath (sans anything electric) and I am consoling myself with the Great British Bake Off. DD
Have you got the despatches? No, I always walk like this. Eddie Braben