Mark is so weird! I sent him out to buy some bread yesterday and on the way back he decided to offer some of it to a random passing couple.
‘But why?” I said.
‘It’s a generous thing to do,’ he explained.
‘Yes, but why?’
‘Well, they might be in need of some bread,’ he explained patiently, as though describing the laws of thermodynamics to a toddler.
‘Well, were they homeless?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Were they dressed in rags? Did they look poor?’
‘No.’
‘Then why, in God’s name, did you think they’d be in need of bread?’
‘I don’t know. I just thought they might.’
And when I went into the kitchen and looked at it I saw it wasn’t even a sliced loaf but a long bloomer! He’d have had to tear a bit off to give them – it’d be like feeding the ducks…
Words fail me. That man just gets weirder.
I have not posted for the last couple of days because I’ve been in an advanced state of flather, following a heavy cold. It seems to be passing now, though I still feel somewhat drained; but at least I’ve got more energy than yesterday when I merely staggered from bed to chair to sofa. Actually that’s not quite true: I did have a burst of energy in the morning when I changed the quilt to a summer-weight one (a lengthy and protracted search for this finally revealed it to be lying under us as it was doing service as a mattress-protector. By which I mean it was protecting us from the mattress which, being as old as our marriage, has gotten into the bad habit of poking us in the ribs at night).
So after that I caught up with Casualty and Dr Who.
And that was Sunday.
Kirk out.
Sarada Gray 