It is amazing how thoughts can jumble together, held by the most tenuous of links. The word blue immediately brought to mind a lovely old lady I once knew. She lived in the residential home I worked in and I loved her. She was a retired school teacher and had lived her life to a rigid set of rules that she imposed on herself. Her name was Miss Woods, though she preferred us to address her as Woody. Even in the hottest summer, she would insist on wearing her liberty bodice and silk bloomers beneath her outer clothes, which were always a shade of blue; preferably navy. Her back was always ramrod straight when she was standing or walking, although she did relax a little when seated. If I sat down for a chat she would signal when it was time for me to leave by pinching me really hard. I suffered many a bruise at her fingers but it was worth it, in order to listen to her talk. She was not the most popular person there. She was neither sugary or tolerant but I loved her and I cried like a baby when she died. Even twenty years on, I still think of Woody and smile.