Retired Bloke and the umbrella

YOU know those moments when The Meaning of Life suddenly becomes all too clear to you?

We were in Swansea Market this morning. The Current Mrs Feeney wanted to buy vegetables for Sunday lunch. There is a superb array of food stalls in the market. Unlike supermarkets, you can get close up and personal with anything from a potato to a shark.

Anyway, I was standing next to Mrs F while she examined the veg and looked for the correct money in her purse. She was juggling assorted root veg, purse and a rolled-up umbrella.

To make things easier, she hooked the umbrella by its handle to the partly-opened front of my rain jacket. Then she carried on with the happy veg transactions while I stood there, the human umbrella stand.

Does this mean that I have now officially attained the status of a piece of furniture in Mrs F’s ever-busy life?

WE called into the care home on the way back from the market, to visit my parents.

Mum was complaining that her spectacles were ineffective. Possibly because they weren’t hers.

A quick check established that she was wearing the pair belonging to the woman sat opposite her, while the woman sat next to her was wearing hers.

By the time we left, there was every danger that everyone would be wearing their own pair; for today.


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