"Grass baskets from Rwanda"

I worked at the town surgery today. Went out to a cafe at midday to meet a lady who turned out to have a wee bit of dementia. After an hour and a half of conversation, my brain was slipping gears too as we jumped from one tooic to another. However, I think I've found her an activity she'll enjoy, and a lift to get there. I also helped her locate glace cherries (in Home Bargains). Success!

After work, I went to my late friend GS' house. Her daughter G was there. GS died on Saturday and her daughter wanted stuff given away. She more or less pressed every single "grass basket" on me (there were seven, in varying sizes) and a bag of books and a sewing machine, then drove me home. It was sad saying goodbye to her. She will be returning to South Africa soon. She did say that GS had been very fond of me, and had spoken of me often. I'll miss her terribly.

Since I got home, I've carried on reorganizing my clothes and putting some t shirts etc in the grass baskets. You wouldn't recognize mt stuff now especially now that I've folded everything Marie Kondo style. It occurs to me that the cupboard within my cupboard (yes really) is also a gift from a late friend. Both of these late ladies were far shorter and rounder than me, so I am spared from being given their clothing. In a town the size of Stroud, that would be remarked on.