A trip to Grandad's house to deliver his birthday cards and presents.
Musical candles, bubble blowing and admiring the flowers.
My mum loved her garden. We went on her birthday in October to plant lots of bulbs. It seemed a fitting tribute.
They're now coming up everywhere. It's a good place to feel close to her. Some things never change: a sunny, breezy day meant a line full of washing and a little explore to see what was appearing in the hidden corners.
Joe was fascinated by the frogspawn. He liked the feel of it on his fingers. The frogs hid but were croaking loudly, probably warning us off...
After bacon butties and birthday cake, a walk along the canal.
Spring has sprung. I noticed it in the waterside gardens and the hedgerows. Soon there will be ducklings.
Other little things of note:
I read my first ever bit of Russian literature yesterday: a short story (Vladimir Nobokov's Christmas). It was beautiful.
The meds are working but steroids mess with your sleep. A few drops of lavender oil on the pillow don't seem to be having a massive effect but the bedroom smells wonderful, like an old country house.
I've drawn a line under the whole winter stodge thing. Saturday was all about gluttony. Sunday was all about regret. We now have lots of wholesome and healthy fruit and vegetables and lean meat and fish and pulses for this week's meals.
There was a final hurrah by way of fish and chips though.
Hope you had a lovely weekend.
P.S. The honey and caramel birthday cake was good - my first foray into caramel-making went well. But it was buttercream overload; a bit too sweet and rich for me (never thought I'd ever find myself saying that). Still, the menfolk enjoyed it...