Len

I thought my foot would be in my mouth less as I got older.
Wrong.
Today I went out to lunch with two octogenarians, one nonagenarian and someone who is only twenty years my senior.
The anecdotes were fab and, unusually, no one fell asleep in their meal.
As I was leaving I mentioned to Len (93, former high school maths teacher, born in Poland) that George and I are planning a trip to Vienna for our wedding anniversary.
I asked him if he'd ever been there?
"Yes, once," he answered.
I asked him excitedly if he'd liked it?
"Not really," he said, "I was in a labour camp."

Tempus fugit

Note to self.
Stop faffing around on the Internet and get those kitchen cupboards cleared out.
And the ironing done.
And the socks paired.
And the puppy trained.
And the floor oiled (unlikely, but it's on the list).
And the car cleaned (though, frankly, what's the point?).
Just get on with it all because these weeks are going to fly by.

Wanted

Tea rooms are in hibernation.
My sixth season is complete.
Recycling all done.
Freezers defrosted (not a single ice cream left. Joy.)

The first challenge of next season was laid down today when Sue, who makes our fruit cakes and ginger cakes, rang to say she's moving house and hanging up her apron.
She will be a very hard act to follow.
But to avoid those disappointed faces I must find someone to fill her shoes.