Sunny Sunday

Lorraine up and working hard in what is her last day of preparation for the big interview tomorrow. Dawn, who has just bought a flat in Henfield, came around to give Lorraine help and moral support and make lots of green paper leaves. I repaired to Ken and Janet's house and stayed for some time, having good chats with them as the sweltering heat had made it a quiet Open House day.  Janet said that people are very interested, but is concluding that hard times are making people unwilling to put their hands in their pockets. Mum has sold a few items this time, however, which is good. Also talking to Huss, Ken's son-in-law who I've always liked, and their friend Ray, who works at the University and has a trademark of a long flowing beard. Sat in the conservatory in the back watching them smoke cigarettes.

Later Lorraine and I went for a walk in the park, which looked like an L.S. Lowry picture, but one which replaced Salford with a big green park dotted with people, bicycles, dogs and the domes of the Moscow State Circus. Clare Turner cycled past us with two of the boys, saying hello. Lorraine and I then sidled off to the little walled garden, and we drifted about between flowers, which was the first time I'd seen Lorraine relax for some time. Home, and I cooked, and cleaned an aquarium as Lorraine slogged on.

An unexpected boon from my iPhone is that I can download audiobooks onto it, but because it has some surprisingly loud speakers, I can listen to audiobooks while I am doing chores or cooking. I've now finished Bring Up The Bodies,  a continuation of the Wolf Hall story ending with Anne Boleyn's execution, and an now listening to Andrew Carr's The Making of Modern Britain which is a history of Britain from 1900 till mid century.

Flipped this evening in a low-attention-spanish way between watching two good films on TV. The Lovely Bones, and The Road. Both compellingly grim. I have read The Road, might try The Lovely Bones one day.

To bed, after Lorraine finally came downstairs, gulped a glass of wine, and fell asleep on the sofa.

Below a later copy of a contemporary painting of Anne Boleyn, a wilful character in Hilary Mantel's excellent books.



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