What was I thinking? Posting the Things Done/Things To Do stuff.....This would be so-o-o-o-o boring to list and to read! So I shan't continue with it after all, although I might allow myself a little online whoop and shriek when it's all done. I have also had a mild attack of common sense about my luggage. Instead of buying new and lovely matching cases, I've dug out my small bargain basement rucksack-case on wheels, and despite it being rather grubby (thank you, previous airline baggage handlers), it will have to do as my hand luggage. And my old Tesco suitcase will suffice too. I know I will forfeit any chance of looking smart and sophisticated enough to warrant an upgrade from British Airways' Huddled Anonymous Masses seating to More Champagne, Modom? luxury, but that was a foolish fantasy anyway. Stop laughing about the smart and sophisticated bit....that's just unkind. But if I lower my standards any further and talk about buying rubbery perforated clonky clog-style footwear (you know what I'm talking about - oh so comfy for travelling in!) you may come round to my house and shout at me till I recover my wits.
For those of you who need to know (Roger, Annie), my new cushions have just been delivered by Lynn, who made up the covers for me in the fabric I nitpicked about till the right colours were found. They look quite lovely, especially when compared to the ill-matched dog-bed affairs that were there before. The new chairs are also the last word in comfort; I shall post a photo, although sadly, you won't be able to tell from it just how snooze-inducing they really are. The old red armchairs, which looked squashy and inviting, but were really over-stuffed and took up half the sitting room, have been rehomed with Carole, where they can clash excitingly with the ancient blue sofa and lurid yellow walls of her sitting room (no, I'm not being rude; she doesn't like the lurid yellow either).
It's Mother's Day. The tradition in this family is that the Lovely Son somehow misses the extensive nationwide advertising for this artificially-created but still appealing retail event, realises this sometime during the day, and sends me a belated message. Last year it was by email. Today it was by text.
I wonder if this is a genetic thing - my mother regularly forgot my birthday unless I reminded her beforehand, thankfully a childish habit I grew out of, and would then have to resort to a telegram - yes, a telegram - you can tell how old I am! - but at least birthday telegrams came in a decorative card which could, if you were desperate enough, be put on the mantelpiece.
Kevin Update 5: He is much the same as yesterday. He can now detect his special diet food even when it is diluted with other stuff to homeopathic proportions, and has made it clear that he won't bother, thank you. He is being stoical, as am I, but every now and then, we have a little cuddle and I cry for both of us.