Dearth...

Scrobs has been reasonably empty of ideas for posts of late.

About now, I feel I have to remember what was going on last year, when Senora O'Blene was so poorly, and we didn't know that she'd only have a few weeks to stay with us.

Yesterday would have been her 77th birthday.

Anniversaries are odd times, you never know whether to laugh or cry, but I've popped a bunch of her favourite flowers - sweet peas, with some Mock Orange and a rose bud from one of her roses from one of the kids' mums whom she taught, over near where she's scattered.

Hurts still.

Tears before bedtime...

Merriman, the acerbic and trenchant butler in 'The Duchess of Duke Street', used to expound his theories about the lot upstairs with marvellous expression...

Reading today, that Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys had popped off, reminded me of one of their better songs -

I remember loving this song from the day it came out, and by surprise, it was in a 'remainder' box in a music shop near Woodford Green Underground Station back in 1972 - so I bought it!

R.I.P. Brian Wilson, you were so important back then...