The kitchen ficus.

Not late up and amazed as I couldn't sleep last night.  Not worried, knee behaving, no reason to be awake.  Read, did sudoku and eventually went downstairs, made tea, ate two enormous wedges of Yorkshire Brack and poured over maps. Then I realised I'd forgotten a friend's birthday so sent her an e-card.  Maybe that's what was keeping me awake but I doubt it.  I am abysmal when it comes to birthdays and feel guilty when people remember mine.  Recently I made a resolution to reform.  Nearly fell at the first hurdle which doesn't bode well.  Went back to bed at half past three and slept until just after eight.  All in all I've done all right.  The kitchen got cleaned. Groceries arrived.  Mainly wine to take away with me.  No brioche which was a disappointment.  Sainsbury's  brioche comes from France and has the real taste.  Things have gone through the washing machine.  The inside of the car has been cleaned. Didn't go photographing.  My eye was caught by the kitchen ficus in the sun.  It must be between thirty or forty years old by now and has had a hard life.  Nearly froze to death one winter, looked like giving up the ghost from smoke damage in a house fire and grew so tall it got cut back to half it's height, looked terrible and shed its leaves.  But it's a survivor and is looking as good as it ever did.  Wish I could say the same about me.