Remembrance
I am flaunting my winnings. The tomatoes came home with me in a washed plastic take-out box. They were my chosen raffle prize, well, one of my prizes. I'd been invited to make some oral history recordings at a local 'afternoon club', which sounded delightfully raffish. John, a friend from our local museum, had invited me. He and his wife had taken over the running of the fortnightly get-together a couple of years previously. Of course I'd agreed to go, John's a lovely man. As the day got closer, I regretted making the commitment. The afternoon was half way through a week of being overwhelmed with 'real' work. I felt stressed and unreasonable. Under the cosh from more than one direction. Fortunately, John and his wife don't have a computer or a smartphone, a fact which instantly whipped away any opportunity for a wheedling email from me seeking postponement because something (infer 'more important') had come up. I spent the morni...