A Still Life

My still life is the downside of the sports injury ruling me out if the Commonwealth Games in the summer. I am reduced to a slow shuffle when covering ground.
However I'm pleased to say that the wonderful 35 bus allowed me to 'chum' His Lordship to a café, once the resting place of the newly dead, when he was en route to today's assignation today with his old army pal to see '12 Years a Slave' on the big screen.

My shuffling walk does not, on the other hand, preclude my getting down on all fours to wash the kitchen floor or to drag the vacuum cleaner around the flat, or for that matter to make fish pie for tea.

The unaccustomed cleaning is the result of a friend, whose approbation I value, visiting tomorrow and I would hate her to think we live in a midden.

It is rather sad, that having lived to this ripe old age, I still cannot be myself and let it all hang out. What is more, I'm sure I'm not alone in this subterfuge that we women maintain to preserve a false image of ourselves.

Now to take another dose of Ibuprofen.......