The green hills of Stroud

On the way into town to buy pyjamas for Dave, I called in on a friend. We took tea on her roof terrace, which has fabulous views. I had a such a view, too, when I lived in Middle Street, a little further up. I was relieved to find that it hadn't been my friend F who had been taken off in an ambulance on Saturday: the ambulance had been parked outside her front door, which has made me wonder.

F gave me two more jigsaws to sell. Someone else gave me one this morning. And there were seven last week. Help, I've only sold three in the past week. Soon I will be able to build a little house out of jigsaw boxes, as in the tale of the the three little pigs. The wolf represents encroaching poverty.

In town, I was rained on. Dave had said I couldn't visit him in his new hospital, because they have different coronavirus rules. But I got his pyjamas, so that I can deliver them when I go to help his rearrange his house for his rehab. In the shop, I had a flashback to buying pyjamas for my mother, several years ago, when she had flu. Some of the ones I bought her were too big, but I notice that my sister now wears them. Is this what middle age amounts to: buying PJs for the sick and elderly ? It could be a lot worse.

Walked back home, via the canal, and then I remembered the WEA classes. Bookings go live today, nationwide, for members, and for non members next week. All the classes will be online in September, because of the virus, so there is a huge choice. Seeing as we don't appear to be going anywhere this year, I have enrolled for several. The one I'm most excited about is called 'the Soul of Russian music' and it is taught by a Native Russian. (Course code C2227517, if you are interested).