In bed before 9.30, absolutely whacked. Didn't sleep at all well last night as ED's bed has this special electric mattress to prevent bed sores and it makes as much noise as a small motor bike, constantly changing gear. Plus there was a much greater degree of groaning and wailing from the poor souls who have lost their language (or in some cases never had language), which apparently, like casualties at A&E, increases around a full moon.

We had a great day today though. ED went to the Sunday service held here - Baptist this week - which she enjoys, and I sat out on the veranda chatting with a new resident, a very pleasant old man, 83 next week, who told me the tale of his happy thirty three years of marriage and his wife's sad death two years ago.

Off to the woods, which was heaving - I have never seen it so full of people and dogs and cars and ice cream vans. We ate free range organic burgers on home made bread from the barbecue and mooched a bit under the newly greening trees. I made the self-preserving decision not to push ED all round the mobility track as whichever way you go you start downhill and end with an uphill stretch - not a massive gradient but enough to finish me off and lead to tetchiness and grumpiness. So we sat on a log - well, I did and she sat near me - drinking tea and singing nursery rhymes then moved on to a different log for a while then turned back. All good, no grumps or tetches at all.

On to visit ED's in laws, which they liked a lot. Big hassle getting the wheelchair into their tiny bungalow, but we made it and one of their cats sat on ED's lap which was worth twice as much aggro for the pleasure it gave her.

Final stop in the small town to sit in the late afternoon sun drinking coffee, then back to the home in time for ED's dinner.

She demanded to go to bed immediately after, at six thirty, and that's where she's been ever since, listening to Radio 4 Extra, which has a truly eclectic mix of stuff, none of which require vision. No one seems to acknowledge her lack of sight, despite the fact that she misses eyes when looking into a face and drives her chair straight into walls, chairs, people, trees... So they keep putting her in front of the telly, which is hopeless and confusing. Ah well. Tonight we've listened to a programme about Tommy Cooper, one about Chaplin, an ancient Kenneth Horne comedy, a short drama and now Desert Island Discs, with songs by Sarah Vaughn, Jimi Hendrix and Leonard Cohen, has just finished and someone's reading a novel. She's loved it all - I keep asking her "On, off or change?" and she says, "Keep this!"

Today I am grateful for: all of it, lovely time with my girl, sunny day, no problems, just peaceful, companionable, perfect.

Hope your day was as good xxx