The plans are...

in place.  At all times we are within hailing distance of a phone.  Yesterday we three went out to lunch after a free and frank discussion about our duties as executors with lasting power of attorney.

She said...

‘I don’t care!’

I said...

‘All well and good for you to say that, however your friends will want you to have a funeral!’

If A. gets her way the teaching hospital after they have allowed their students to get up close and personal with her bits, will do the deed.  If not, then her earthly remains she wants disposed of without fuss.

Yesterday she was bright, had a good lunch and her tummy was on its best behaviour.  The tennis 

and football will keep her mind 

off things this week.

  Her thirst for life is unquenchable.  She is failing we both agree.

Each morning I facetime her.  This morning she spoke of her tum, the number of times she has to get up in the night and this morning before getting out of bed her feeling very breathless.  By the time we spoke she was feeling a lot better.  It is a worry!

Putting her out of my mind I got on with pottering in the garden.

The iPad gurgled, I rushed in to the missed call, thinking the worst.  When I called back she was calling to show me her new haircut, and the purple streak that the hairdresser had put in the front of her hair.  I had completely forgotten I had given her the powder when she mentioned doing something with her hair!

She was bright and happy with her new look.  I was over the moon, 

although I do idly wonder if the worry will take me off before her!?!

   A. in better days... 

94 in September!