Lily, Camelia, Ted and Dan

A day of no great impact but a little strange in a number of ways. 

The lilies, given to my wife as a Mother's Day gift from our daughter Ell, are opening. And spectacular.

The Camelia shrub in our front garden is bursting into vibrant life.

Ted, according to his owner whom I met today on a walk with Hollie, is a Jack Russell. I giggled inwardly but nodded sagely. Discretion is always the better part of valour, so they say. If that's a Jack Russell I'll eat my wallet.

And I went to visit Dan. Its only a memorial but it is a connection. He was a very good friend of our nephew Rob. Dan died tragically and in mysterious circumstances. His death was a cataclysmic event for the family. The oak tree in his memory is doing wonderfully well.

And I went with my wife to attend her parents. Both in their nineties, and both completely and undeniably off their rockers. In the latest sequence of events grandad George has fallen (again), and somehow put his head through a glazed door panel, smashing the glass, but unbelievably escaped any injury whatsoever. Nanny Jean, in the adjoining bedroom, heard nothing and knew nothing about this latest incident until her daughter, my wife's younger sister attended the scene.

I must write it down. There is a book in there somewhere....