Too Big for her Boots

It’s always good to start the week and even the month with a civilised visit with my school chum to the Ivy on the Square where we have the attention of Dimitris who treats us like special customers. Toast and lattes arrive at our table without a word being uttered. I have on occasion wondered what would happen if we changed our minds and wanted something different….. maybe Eggs Benedict. That might throw him.
You might think that  Alyson and I could not possibly have anything left to talk about having seen each other three times this past week , but you would be wrong -we manage beautifully.

It was home bearing yet more plums and blueberries - I’m almost all plummed out. It’s been a great year for them. 

Later I dodged the showers to take my granny trolley filled with clothes to the local charity shop. I’ve come to realise that hoarding anything in size 8 is a futile exercise in wishful thinking. That ship has sailed and is unlikely to return unless I get sick and thin.

While I drag my trolley behind me I age at least 10 years to become the archetypal old lady with her shopping basket on wheels. I  imagine that is what these lithe young students see as they pass me on Middle Meadow Walk but maybe I’m doing myself the compliment of thinking that they actually notice me at all.  Devoid of its contents, I can hop skip and jump my way home without the wheels touching the ground and feel 10 years younger again.

I seem to be finding it hard to find anything worthy of being photographed and so it has to be Princess again,  my avocado plant who is stretching her limbs and outgrowing her spot on the window sill. I’m not sure what to do with her or where to put her next.