Petals

Recent weekends have seen strange activity round our place; in particular big cakes stored in boxes in the spare bedroom.  I like boxes, cardboard boxes, but F went to great lengths to make sure I couldn’t reach the cardboard one and the rest of the cakes were in tough plastic boxes.  I don’t like cake anyway, but it might have been interesting to tear the boxes apart.  Then there were the clothes; F had been sewing like crazy for a while – fancy waistcoats for Mr B and a shiny dress for her.  She was also carrying the cakes down to the kitchen from time to time and muttering darkly over them while wearing a white apron.  If nothing else it made a change from gardening in her dirty old allotment boiler suit, but it did all seem a bit out of character.   The crows got to eat a lot of blobs of pink and white stuff which they seemed to greatly enjoy.

Blobs of Pink Stuff

After the cakes disappeared from upstairs a big cloth got laid out in a sunny patch on my living room floor with pink and white rose petals inside it.  I know what roses smell like.  What is going on?

This week a photograph turned up of Mr B’s daughter in a big white dress.  Mr B called it a wedding.  I’m not sure what a wedding is other than big cake, a big white dress, and rose petals but it certainly makes folks do strange things.