As Auntie Sarah and I drove to Pinford End, the puddles along the path were bright mirrors, cunning holes into another sky. Grandma was sitting in an arm chair when we came in, turned toward the window and the garden outside.
We'd brought along a record player, and listened to the first movement of Mendelssohn's violin concerto in E, and Grandma closed her eyes in pleasure and waved her hands, conducting her own concerto.
We also listened to Marilyn Baker, and some Mozart, and watched the sunlight on the clouds.
Before we left, Grandma and I both exhibited just how high we could lift our legs - Grandma always lifts her leg right up in the air at night to rub cream all over it (Mum and Hannah inherited Grandma's beautiful legs, and I got Dad's, but perhaps I inherited some of Grandma's flexibility).
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