Monkeys up a Pole

Every time I think I’m coping with my new life as a widow, along comes an email from the lawyer quoting figures and demanding a signature, and then a bill from American Express for a direct debit I thought I had cancelled, both of which gave me a sleepless night for no good reason other than I am a worrier who can worry about not worrying, given half a chance.
In coupledom , with any luck, there is one of the pair who can put things into perspective and let the worrier off the hook, but on one’s own there is no such get out. Still, things are heading in the right direction, so calmer times are on the horizon.

Despite the icy temperature and the sleet, I met up with a school friend in the National Library this morning , the French Institute Café being closed for refurbishment. We have met occasionally over the years since school when we both lived in Glasgow and at various functions since then, but it was good to catch up and compare notes on our families.

On the way home I looked out for the monkeys up a lamppost in the Meadows. I had been told about them by son#2 weeks ago but hadn’t got around to blipping them until today. Who put them there and why? In cases like this, I blame the Art students. Why wouldn’t you?

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