Killington Lake.

I'm way behind with my postings at the moment as I'm away from home with no internet access - unless I go to a café; I'll post this entry in the morning (it's already a week late) and start filling in the gaps when I return to civilisation.

A phone call from Sis at 12:30 am brought the news I had been expecting - but not quite this soon; The Old Lady had just died. She'd had a cough since Christmas and it had turned to pneumonia. Sis was with her at the time and the staff at The Lodge had rallied round: when the doctor said she should go to hospital they said that she was staying right where she was, it was what she wanted, and that is where she remained.

One carer read TOL's favourite poetry to her while Sis got some rest, the others were there for both of them, and in the morning several of the residents wore black at breakfast.

I had planned a couple of days ago that I would travel down today and so left home after not much sleep; I had no tears, just a mind numbing emptiness. On the way down, recordings of my favourite radio programmes were playing in the car, but I didn't hear much of them. When I eventually arrived all the carers on duty, including some that I didn't know, had kind words for me and wanted to talk about the old girl, it was a pattern that followed for the next week; Sis and I chatted until much later than we should have done before going to bed, but felt much better for it. We realised that we shouldn't be sad, she'd had a long and happy life and had spent the last part of it with her new, loving family at The Lodge; when she arrived there, nearly eleven months ago, she was both the newest and the oldest resident, the contradiction gave her a great deal of pleasure and she made the most of her new opportunity.

The blip is at my favourite service station, I think the birds are rooks (crows are the other possibility) and their nests can be seen in the trees at the end of the island.