Pistachio pout

Friend Phil, photography tutor from the Burton Manor years (grrr to Liverpool Council for closing that wonderful place), took me for a couple of crip's outings when I was in a wheelchair, but has been too busy till today to take me out now I can get around on one crutch. Actually I've not seen him since the brain injury so he was probably afraid I'd turned into an embarassing drooling idiot, although he denies that. What he did say was that I looked really well, and not at all what he expected. We went to Albert dock with the intention of mooching round the museum and Tate Gallery, but as his stomach is still on British Summer Time we opted to go for lunch first, and as the service was extremely slow in the end it constituted the whole outing. I didn't mind that at all as he is such a funny guy, and batty in the way I am too, and I seemed to do nothing but laugh the whole time. I was amazed that as a professional photographer he had no camera on him, not even a compact, but he explained that he was treating it as my day and wanted to give me his full attention - what a gentleman. The light was so great by the dock that I insisted he use my proper camera to take some shots. I took none except for this with my compact; my pistachio icecream dessert sculpted by Phil into something more suitable for an ageing brain-damaged crip (my words). Hoorah for friends - today really lifted my spirits.

Africa was a deep blue like the sky over the river.