Up very late this morning, needed the sleep I guess. The Volvo also needed replenishment, the trip computer had got down to saying “15 miles remaining” and then “– miles remaining” but when I filled up I got 66 litres (£91) into the 70-litre tank, so I was probably OK for about another 51 miles if I’ve got my maths right? (36 mpg = 12.7 miles per litre).
I also visited the garden centre, and here is the human mind’s capacity to deceive oneself.
I looked at bird tables and decided I didn’t want one after all. I bought more sawdust for the piggysqueaks although we had plenty. Then I went outside to look at the flowers, with a vague view that I might buy a few more. What I was really doing was breaking another duck; going there without J. I’d been with Margaret and the girls a few weeks ago to get new flowers just before the wake, but my memories were of going there with J, particularly when she was ill (euphemism for dying from cancer). I looked at a few flowers, some names I recognised, some I didn’t. Some I wondered if she’d like and some she definitely would have liked. Either way there was nobody to check with, and that was very, very sad for me. (Another euphemism). So I left quickly, before anyone could see my eyes. I’m not doing that on my own again.
Back home, I opened up two more of the envelopes that J had left for me. Neither improved the situation – the girls came bounding up the stairs with the tissue box, they are well-trained now. But I just wanted to “hear” J talking to me again. I’m going to run out of letters soon, but we have plenty of tissues.