Not what it means

A walk around the bluebell wood with friends this morning and then back to theirs for coffee and hot cross buns, and also to admire their new pond, fresh with tadpoles.

This afternoon I walked down to the postbox with a card for JJ's cousin (just 60), who is staggering from one cancer crisis to another with no sign of it ending.  Heartbreaking. 

We do message one another with silly conversations ranging from "how much loose change does a catheter hold", to wear it's best worn.  She's had so much treatment that her daughter, who is expecting her first baby in August, isn't allowed to visit.  I do hope she lives to see it born and grow up.

This is the first time I've seen the local sign taken literally.