Bea set off on a round of family/friend visits on Friday and is back this afternoon. The sun is on our balcony this early morning, shining on the geraniums and our new cushion covers, the bushes along the wall are swaying in the breeze and the Channel is in turquoise-blue mode with little white horses flourescing in the shallows.
Bea has made me a beautiful butterfly robe to wear for hospital - it is light and silky and will be so easy to get into. And she has made a lovely silk scarf for Jackie. And yesterday, Aunt Jo, my only other remaining aunt, rang and we had a long chat. She is concerned about the operations that face me... and is not all that well herself.
One of the many things you don't think about when you are young is that, as you get older, you will lose all your uncles and aunts. They seem as fixed as the stars in the sky when you are a child. And of course that you will become an aunt yourself. And then - gulp - a great aunt - four times over so far.
Aunt Jo, looking so young and glamorous, is in the first photo of me ever taken.
How quickly it all goes. Well, as I have said before, that was one of the things that set me searching - nearly 30 years ago. Was there any meaning to it all? Is this all the time we get to spend with the people we love? That, and above all, the beauty and glory of the world. I came to realise it had been made so beautiful just for us. By Someone. And I wanted to find that Someone and thank Him.
And, then of course, I talked to two Jehovah's Witnesses who called at my door and found out what the Bible on my shelf had been trying to tell me all along.
I only hope that, after the operations, I can get back out there and try to tell others myself.