The rose of Home Farm

...is actually the lady of the house! She knows who she is, because she's reading this, I hope. She's an artist, and has a studio in the grounds. The farm in the Cotswolds is where she grew up, and still lives today.

I was visiting as the artist's model, and it turned out to be a fine day, once the morning mist had lifted. A few of us had lunch afterwards, then L drove me back home. I was supposed to be doing some paperwork, but decided to have a rest instead. That carried on for several hours!

Is it my increasingly forgetful middle age, I wonder, that makes me unable to deal with everyday stuff? Or is that we live in an awkward transitional age, where things that used to be so simple, like going to the bank, turn out to be infinitely complicated, requiring numerous passwords and plastic machines/keys so small that they get lost? I am turning into a granny, without ever having had children!

Or do I just need a Personal Assistant? Yes, please.

I love that this rose is still blooming so wholeheartedly on 20th September. The planting in the garden area is sublime.