Freesias and worm hearts
Down to Petit Bôt this morning Mum, Maureen and Pat all squished in the back of the car and talking about sardines. Walked about over the stones, to the sand, and then returned to doze meditatively on the bench above the bay. The sun flirting with us behind a large black cloud. An American woman staying at the Barbarie passed by and we had a chat with her. Then off to Torteval again to the Imperial Hotel for a spot of lunch, slightly chaotic but filling food. Mum spoke to her other brother Peter on the phone, and then I got a work call to confirm an interesting freelance assignment to start the moment I get set foot in the UK. Then we drove off to find the Freesia centre, and spent some time circling down lanes in the middle of the island accompanied by me swearing at the map. Finally found the Freesia centre was in fact four or five long greenhouses with freesias growing in them. I love the smell of freesias, so was in an olfactory heaven. Some mooching here, and Pat ...