Since The Leak life had been a bit strange. The familiarity of domestic routines was a comfort. Practising mindfulness whilst washing-up at the kitchen window was amongst Norma’s favourites. There, as usual, was Robin the robin, twisting and bobbing on the garden wall, looking out for his breakfast. She and Paul had chosen the name long ago when they were still speaking to each other, or more correctly before the diagnosis, when she could speak.

Useless at multi-tasking.

At the movement, Norma’s thoughts refocussed. Looking-up from a particularly stubborn fried egg encrustation, Paul entered her vision window-left. He was wearing his usual gardening attire, the pink “onesie.” Face down, back arched, he was advancing worm-like through the petunias. She and Robin watched him reach the ninety degree obstacle of the house wall corner and stop. Robin opened his beak, uncoiled a forked tongue, flicked and caught the cat snoozing below, gulped, and flew off.

Too much! This has got to stop.