Doomed

After the pleasures of yesterday with weather augmenting the feel good factor, I've been rather enervated today. I'm just hoping that my friend of many talents, visiting this afternoon, is going to lift my mood.

I reneged on the gym before breakfast and turned over in bed for an extra hour of sleep. Then I had a sore hobble to register with a new medical Practice as the one whose doors I have graced for 40 years deems me to be outside their area even though the new one is further away, and lastly I had a sorer hobble back home carrying some shopping.

It's interesting that I continue to use the word 'sore' some 50 years after being upbraided by a posh headmistress who told me in no uncertain terms that 'sore' can only be applied to an open wound and the word I should be using was 'painful'.
I pass on this little piece of accuracy in language lest you feel inclined to repeat my mistake, and be thought wanting on the grammar front.

I passed this doomed tree on my hobble home and felt sorry that it, amongst its neighbours, will face the chainsaw shortly, leaving a gap in the screen of trees along the path.
No doubt another young tree will be planted in its place, but I will never see it grow to the size of the doomed one. That puts a life span into perspective, doesn't it?