Yesterday, we made soup in the garden. This involved filling bowls of water with leaves and gravel and blue flowers and a dead bee. (The bee was already dead, there was no cruelty.) My cousin's five-year-old garnished the soup with rosemary, and it looked quite lovely. My nephews have gone now, every bone, every muscle aches, I feel stretched on a rack. For the first time, my older nephew asked my mum why Auntie nmj had to rest so much, my mum said 'cos she is a sick auntie, and I said to her later, you shouldn't tell him I'm ill, he'll be scared of me.