I’m on my third diagnosis and the antibiotics prescribed yesterday are kicking in.
My laptop is back on my desk and not on my bedside table, although for the first three days of being ill I couldn’t write anyway. I realised I was getting better when I managed to come down the stairs without holding the banister rail. And on Friday in the kitchen I found myself doing three things at once (as per usual) so I knew things were looking up.
Crikey, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t eat and I can NEVER not eat. Friends emailed and said “I hope Dave is looking after you.” For the record, Dave always looks after me.
The grandchildren cheered me up. The combination of them with social media is magic. Isaac tweeted this on Wednesday with the photos below:
She explained she had written her name on Cecilia’s foot so Isaac and Wendy would know who had done the decorations.
There is a back view because she was particularly proud of the artwork on the nappy.
It was Gil’s birthday on Thursday
and I was too unwell to go and give him his present and have some cake, so I rang him up, feeling sad, and he turned to Zoe and suggested she should save some cake for me. Then later he Face-timed me to show me his presents.
She told me that the boys had been discussing who was posh and who was not. Gil said, “I don’t want to be mean, but Sue and Dave aren’t posh. They never dust, and they have dead flies in their attic.”
Aren’t I lucky?