Bert has gone to Leitrim for the weekend leaving me in sole charge of Pearlie. She has a new ruse. She writes me lists of 'things to do'. Her last list had pad, cardigan, teeth, towel, drink and book on it. Such is the life of an immobile old lady.
I went shopping for shoes yesterday and found nothing suitable. Today, while sorting out the pruck in my bedroom, I found shoes I'd bought several months ago and had forgotten about. They are eminently suitable. Whatever that means.
Looking after Pearlie on one's own is very tiring so that is all I am able to write now.
Except - is it true what Caroline says - that They are going to take the Internet off us. Say it's not true!