Well well. Granny is home from rainy and windy London...having acquired, sort of, a flat which she can afford - and likes; a lot. Unfortunately, it is local authority and in a concrete 10 storey block... Building Societies do not like such things. Beloved and Granny are spending this morning on the telephone. (And, by the way, forget everything you know about the horrors of Local Authority housing estates. This one - apart from being 10 minutes walk from last flat and two minutes from the underground - and also containing - in a more mortgagable property, Beloved's Beloved Daughter's boyfriend - IS NOT LIKE THAT.) If anyone has any ideas of how to get round lender stuffiness, please let Granny know. (Or, alternatively, have £100 grand to spare to lend to two very safe bets - who will return it within a year or two, maximum....? No? You don't surprise me.)
And yes; there was a surprise awaiting her return. Apart from the land having turned from green back to brown; apart from the heat - a calima - the wind from the Sahara has arrived; (but will have gone by the end of the week; the wind will be colder again _ a pity given the visitors to come.) And no, she is not revealing what the surprise is. YET. She wants to surprise the visitors -her family - who arrive here on Thursday and who also read this. Suffice to say no donkey has appeared. No camel. What then? Can you guess? A prize to the winner, but only of Granny's admiration. Will that do?
One clue. The surprise is alive.
No more. She is busy; as usual. Will be till after Easter... Visits here will be short.