Sunday, February 20
We have driven to Kamppi and put some flowers in a vase. On the way there we stopped at the library at Stoa where I had a book waiting. I had ordered The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett before we left for India and it had finally arrived.
We have finished having afternoon tea, with cheese, biscuits, cake, and conversation; and now I sit listening to the others while looking at the flowers on the table.
When we arrived we found somewhere to park that seemed suspiciously convenient, and when we leave we will feel very grateful that we found it. The ground will consist of only snow and ice and some of the snow will prove nothing more than a thin cover for more ice of the hidden persuasion.
We will move slowly like inebriated robots as we shuffle between the door of the apartment and the doors of the car.