Trying on, or just trying?

This business of finding a title for a pretty nondescript day ... so I decided that in many ways today was quite trying, though I did some trying on too. After yesterday's warm afternoon sun, the pale grey morning was a bit of a disappointment, though it was rather pleasing to walk down to the supermarket before breakfast to buy the small vital items that I forgot about the other day - like Marmite, Himself's preferred option (my Vegemite won't do). I was no sooner in again than the phone rang with one of these automated messages to tell me that my prescription was ready to collect from the pharmacy; I couldn't face peching up that hill again without any food so left it till I'd eaten. 

I had a lovely chat on the phone with #1 son who was watching my younger grandson play cricket - it confirmed me in my distant memories of there being long spells when it wasn't gripping to watch on the odd occasion when I made cricket teas for the school team (I think I maybe was interested, maybe, in one of them) (boys, not teas). And then there was a FaceTime with my older granddaughter to make up for the fact that we don't see much of each other just now, so that was a good start.

Then the trying on bit came, as I rummaged around looking for suitable garments for our forthcoming-I-hope holiday in Italy, where it looks as if it's going to heat up a bit just in time for our arrival. I know I've got very much out of the way of packing for a hot walking holiday, or indeed for any holiday for which I can't just chuck things into the car, but even worse was the recognition of how badly redistribution of body mass in the ageing female anatomy can affect clothes choice..

Later in the afternoon I was so cross and so fed up that a walk was an imperative. It was already too late for much, so we settled for a walk halfway up the Glen Massan road to see the bluebells. One patch beside the road makes the left-hand side of the collage; the other is an insignificant little blossom on a small-leaved tree which had the most magnificent scent. In fact, the whole glen seemed full of perfume and birdsong and went a long way towards improving my mood. I have to say now that a text from my younger granddaughter also helped - she sent me a poem she'd written to see what I thought and I was bowled over.

And now midnight has just struck and Himself has appeared with a Taize song which he thinks we might sing at Communion in the morning and would I like to run through it ...