Bedwyn

It’s raining in Brighton this morning. I trudged downhill to the station and struggle with poor mobile reception. Eventually I connect to a discussion about how to dissolve the Netherurd Memorial Hall charity - which is baroque, confided and obscure.

Four trains later, I arrive at Bedwyn. Mum collects me and feeds me lunch. She goes for a snooze while I do a bit of work.

Jol arrives late afternoon. We shift some furniture, cook some dinner, chat. And soon enough, it’s bedtime.