To be fair/soppy/scared

The Lovely Son did email me a loving Mother's Day message at the end of his working day. Sniff. I suppose when you work the weird hours that he does for a couple of events companies, getting up in the small hours, working flat out at high speed throughout the day, having several hours off (but often too far away from home to sleep or do anything sensible) while the event takes place, then taking everything that you put up earlier down again, it can be a challenge to think of much else except getting back to bed before 4 a.m. Add to that a reluctance to be manipulated by the card-and-chocolate companies, and you have a recipe for Forget-Your-Mother Day. I forgive you, Lovely Son. Again.

Kevin Update 6: Rather perky today! We have given up on the special diet food, which only the dog will eat - and if Harry doesn't eat it, it has to be awful - and moved on to raw turkey mince - num num.....cats do seem to like stuff that smells vile; the horrid thing is that it is intended for human consumption. The vet might have something to say on Wednesday about this dietary defiance, but anyone who has tried to persuade a very thin elderly cat that something nasty is still a good thing to eat will know that they will fail miserably, every time. Thin elderly cats have massive reserves of will power of the I'd-rather-die-than-eat-that-muck variety, and Kevin is no exception.

Countdown to Australia: Day 3. While I was in the long queue at the Post Office (never go on a Monday) and browsing the shelves where all sorts of thrilling items are on display - did you know you can still get cap guns? And little plastic discs of caps? Sadly not the paper rolls of caps, though - I spotted and bought a DIY Will form. This is a temporary measure because my old home-made will is terribly obsolete, and I am going in a big metal flying tube to the other side of the world, and it seems so improbable in every respect that it will a) lift itself up into the sky, b) stay there, progressing very fast in an Antipodean direction, and c) won't end in some dreadful disaster that includes my sad demise. I feel I should inflict my last wishes on my beloved friends and family before I take the brave step into the arms (or wings) of British Airways. Charlotte's Auntie Theresa did tell me last week that BA's food is the worst in the world, so even if the plane does manage to take off and land safely, there are other hazards to be navigated en route. I need people to know that they have been nominated as Executors, and, worse, asked to assist in clearing my house of my many, many belongings....I just know they'll be cheered by that knowledge.