The world from my window

It's the same year after year. Yet again on Mother's Day I wake with a thumping hangover playing double bass in a jazz quartet. Oh, these parties. The night before, Mr and Mrs Sheepwash from down the road threw a bash to mark their 30th wedding anniversary - child bride, she was. Anyway, it was a great night but I forgot to put my contact lenses in and spent the entire evening sharing an armchair with a friend who had also forgotten to put in her lenses. Between us, we gazed into each other's eyes because we were the only people we could see who weren't blurred. We solved all the world's problems while we drank the white wine lake dry. So, for Mothering Sunday, no bellringing for us because a) we got up too late and b) the daughter and grand-daughter visited with a chocolate cake so it seemed like a good excuse not to go up the church tower steps and risk a nasty fall and tinnitus from those bells. The day before, a huge bouquet arrived from the prodigal son from Un...