Wisteria in Hexham

I drove to the RVI in Newcastle for an appointment in the maxillo facial department about the lump on my tongue. It has improved, but one side of the tongue is whitish and the memory of the pain lingers.

There was a long wait during which I read the first 60 pages of Cuddy. I seem to be drawn accidentally to tales of people dying.

The young doctor was a delight. She asked questions intelligently and examined me thoroughly. She thinks it is nothing serious but I have to have a biopsy. An appointment will come in due course.

I was home for lunch, then in Hexham for a cup of coffee/tea with the other Marjorie. She always produces deep conversations. We talked about genocide and its definition and about concepts of power and racial identity.

(In choir we are singing a song “Lord give me power”. I’m uncomfortable with that concept. Everyone else is singing lustily, but I wonder if they are all OK with it.)

Marjorie is very supportive and helpful regarding grief too. I’ve been feeling irritable.

My passport went into the post box as part of my application for a new one.

HMRC wrote to say they will assess Mum’s estate in case she needs to pay excess tax. (I doubt it, but we’ll see.)

The wisteria grows on the side of Hexham House. It’s a lovely backdrop for Spring weddings.