I spent this morning in church – Thinking Day Service.
The best bit was a story told by an eighty+ year old Norwegian about his dog – the one his mum knitted for him over eighty uears ago and which his dad stuffed with sawdust from the wood-chopping, which now lives in a drawer except when the GKs visit and grandpa tells them a bedtime story. Then the Norwegian dog comes out to listen to the story as well.
My teddy, Timothy, was stuffed with straw. He lost his squeak after my brother jumped on him once too often, but he lived to tell the tale (my brother, I mean). He said it was CPR, after he'd buried Timothy alive
.
(bro became a doctor)
"I know there are people worse off then me"
On being called Darling and Love


