Saturday, May 8

My birthday seems to go on forever.

Irma’s mother has ordered a bunch of flowers for me for my birthday, and we put them in the workroom next to a drawing that Auo made of flowers. I photograph them.

We will spend some time working in the garden before the weather decides that we have not had enough winter and turns it back on for us.

In the evening we will watch previews of the Eurovision Song Context. We both agree on Iceland, which will not win because the joke (if we can call it that) will prove far too subtle for those people who like something much more obvious.