The flat smelt of it. We don’t buy or cook bread anymore. It must have been from the flat underneath. I like the smell. It smells of home.
A woman from the health board called yesterday, asking if I’d like an appointment with a private eye hospital to have my cataracts operated on. I accepted the offer but with trepidation. He says its an easy procedure. I will have to yield, for the mist increases. But I am scared.
