I phoned my daughter last night, and caught up with her news and the updates on the various cats and dogs she is foster-mother to just now. (It's a long story.) Then I told her about a course I'm considering taking.
How long does it last... assignments... how widely recognised is the qualification... these were all questions I'd asked myself, but now I was hearing them from my daughter. Suddenly I was back to the days when she was sixteen and looking at university courses, and I was asking her all those questions. I'm impressed. She has just become my life coach, but maybe she always was.
The garden is full of quinces, which are hard, bitter yellow fruits. Dad tells me I can make quince jelly with the addition of sugar, apples, a straining bag, sterilised jam jars, a kitchen like a sauna and a lot of time and patience. Maybe not. Perhaps there's an easier way of using quinces that's not such hard work but will stop me feeling guilty about wasting them. Flower arrangements?
Perhaps I should ask my daughter.
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