I wake at 9 o’clock to an empty house and sleepily have breakfast and morning meds. I sort out some odds and ends and then drive to a friends house for coffee. I post the broadcast details of my sisters funeral on the way. My friend drives us to the Staunton Harold Estate where we go for a walk around the grounds. As we walk past the peacock pen the male suddenly displays its tail and provides an unexpected treat.

We continue our walk around the grounds and down to the lake to feed the swans and ducks. There were a large number of coot and moorhen but no sign of a previously spotted egret.

Lunch follows after looking round the arts and crafts shops and studios in the courtyard complex. Over a tasty lunch I talk at length with my friend about the effects of being ill and the effect that has on those around us. I certainly recognise that my own cancer makes me self absorbed at times and I know that this makes me insensitive to what is going on for the other members of my family. We visited the on sight garden centre and finally found ourselves in the automata workshop. A strange little shop inhabited by a single small man making all sorts of moving objects. Not only were there owls, fairies and machines all moving in he shop but also objects made for the film industry and theatre. There is a case were the two Totos made for the stage production of The Wizard of Oz. On the wall was mounted the original parrot headed umbrella that was carried by Mary Poppins. The small man who was busy building his latest creation was a mine of information and was someone who had been a builder of automata all his life and remain fascinated by who was making what and what was new in his world. My friend drove us back from where I drove home feeling that I had had a good day, out in the open air and having had a conversation that I would not have had at home. I conversation that would change the conversations I would have at home.

I get home, realise I have missed a call from a friend and start my usual chores. It being Tuesday I get the bins put out. There is post. Letters from people sending condolences and describing their relationship with my sister. I sit and chat to my eldest daughter till my partner returns from work. So the household slides into the evening, with tea and a televised football match. I take my evening meds and draft the blog. Today has been a good day, an oasis in what feels a bit desert like at the moment. Life will get busy again tomorrow as my youngest daughter is due to arrive with her partner and we move towards Mothering Sunday.