Wet blanket

Another good night's sleep. Then up for relaxed chats with Sue and Lorraine this morning over cups of tea. My walking is improving and am now less of a loping Igor. In the afternoon we decided to go to Charlecote Park, near Stratford, a lovely photogenic place which I toddled about in quite happily for half an hour, looking at deer and swans.

Then, taking a few snaps, and looking at an interesting doorway when I noticed the centre of my vision had gone strange: a bastard migraine on its way. Sat quietly with Lorraine and then in a little garden watching the sparkling sickle start its gradual journey from the centre of my sight to the edges. Luckily these days my migraines are not accompanied by huge pain just a sudden lifelessness, and I have not had one for a few years. Sat quietly in a little formal garden, hearing the wing beats of woodpigeons across the river. A beautiful place to regroup.

Car ride home, where I dozed lots and felt a good deal better by the time we had arrived in Brighton. Betty with a bad cold. Rain hosing down again all night. Wondering if anyone would think it strange if I began to assemble some planks into a rude raft and got the cats and fish in Indian file.

Below some snaps from Charlecote. The scene of my migraine recovery, flaming June, and a pump. I need to return.