At the risk of sounding like a 12 yr old I’m going to share with you the tale of my best friend. When I moved into the cottage Hillary introduced herself on my very first trip to the local post office, stating as the garden to our new home is a mess we will be needing advice, so I should company her to the local gardening club. This is how Hillary is brash, loud, opinionated yet in her own way oh so thoughtful.
Collectively we are known as Mrs Mare & Mrs Moo due to the fact one of us a nightmare while the other is a cantankerous bovine, I refuse to say which one of us is which. We have shared many a Christmas together, lazy sunny afternoons in the garden….consuming way too much red wine…entirely her fault. Winter mornings would find us drinking copious amounts of tea while sat around the stove putting the world to rights. Hillary is a wizard in the kitchen she can cook like no one else I know, her garden her a sight to behold. Although I have many friends in the village, she is my best friend.
This evening my friend died, I have cried a million tears,