Agitated hornets.

Still neither sight nor sound of the electrician, joiner, decorator, plumber or gutter repair man. Maybe they've already stopped work for Christmas ? Instead the gardeners arrived, unannounced. Four young men in red boiler suits showed up in two large white vans and were soon hyper-actively trimming the hedge, cutting down errant branches, and generally tidying up the garden. Wilf went out to briefly christen the tyres but faced with what sounded like four very large and very angry hornets he soon retreated inside.

For Wilf some days are good, some days are bad. Thankfully, overwhelmingly good. Over the last two months we've been spolit by Wilfs remarkable cortisone fuelled health. It's been all too easy to forget the tumour working away inside. This morning another reminder that each day now is precious. He simply refused to come with me into town for croissants. An unmistakeable look that said " I'll just stay here and rest " . My first trip to the bar alone in over a year. A lonely rite of passage. Maybe he'll feel like it tomorrow? A time for patience and love.