You packed for a holiday - Tio Pepe, wine, fudge, and books. Your summery linen tops and trousers reminders of warm evenings in Greece, people-watching from the balcony.
You'd cleared your flat of any evidence of pills and illness - no telltale bedside boxes of unpronounceable pain killers or sticky plastic spoons.
I must admit it was a shock seeing you disguised as someone else in borrowed pyjamas, even though the nurse assured me you'd picked them out yourself. Funny - we had you down as a nightie lady.
But then you always were a bit surprising - I'd no idea you liked fudge.
