Catbells

... through the silver birch screen with mist

More of the same (how is it possible? I’m sure there are pixies at work).
Sorted redirection of post (...how much?!), filled the car with a load for Flusco and, yes, yet more books for Oxfam...weird to see a load on the shelves now from previous trips. A quick gasp of air at Great Wood and then back to fill the boot with all the endless odds and sods. Called on the ‘through the back hedge neighbour’ before heading off.
My friend and her husband who helped me move called by with a tiny Xmas tree : )

Extra - didn’t intend this to be quite so dramatically morbid but as I was burning stuff I suddenly thought I should take a photo, of the photo, of Auntie Audrey before it’s lost to the fire - not really an auntie but I was the nearest and only not-relative in the north in her later years and used to visit her regularly in Morecambe and then sorted her funeral and affairs after she died. As far as I know she was the illegitimate daughter of the editor of Punch and was sort of adopted by my great grandmother or she adopted our family as she lived in the old East End house where they all lived on various floors. I remember her saying she watched zeppelins flying overhead. She said her husband was Churchill’s driver on his official driver’s days off! A handkerchief she had was supposedly Churchill’s ... I can’t remember what happened to that. So many layers of so many lives in such a small place ... I’m handkerknackered.