A gift

Mr C drove me to the hospital, no longer a hospital, but some kind of “hub” for GPs, nurses, a dentist, physio and “well.being centre”. I saw a district nurse who syringed my ear. Now I can’t fail to hear Mr C clattering around. (He can’t hear me muttering about his noise though). The nurse had to tick a box that I was happy for my GP practice to have the information about my ear - another layer of nonsense - apparently they are different branches of the NHS now. No doubt for profit run by Dido Harding, Serco or the likes.

The car went to get a heater fixed for winter and Mr C struggled with Santander authorising payments - there must be a security issue as Lynne,who called for coffee and brought these flowers, said she’d struggled with them yesterday.

It was a sunny and warm afternoon so Lynne and I were able to sit in the garden. I’m enjoying the Diana Anthill book but wondering if I’ll get through “Girl Woman Other.” It won the Booker a couple of years ago so I will keep on.

Daughter has been sent work for James and he’s been good and done it all. (She unplugged Minecraft, but as a reward she’s letting him watch Harry Potter as his big brother Thomas finds it too scary.).