Second Helpings

Home at Last

After the most confusing, frustrating and annoying day yet in this saga of almost four months, my Dad finally arrived home last Monday. He has a walking frame and a carer going in four times a day to help him, so all we can do is hold our breath and see how it works out. He's managed four nights at home now with no call outs, though I suspect his sleep may be less disturbed and of a better quality than mine. Maybe when you reach ninety you cease worrying about anything, though I doubt I'll do either.

The weather this week has been foul and yet again I could count the number of fine days we've had this year on one hand. My instincts tell me it's going to be the fourth consecutive disappointing summer in a row, but then I'm not famous for my optimism. The World Cup celebrations this weekend will certainly add to my grumbles. Forty days of wall to wall football and I'll be climbing all of them by the final. Not even Wimbledon causes any excitement or anticipation these days. I have truly reached Grumpy Old Woman status.

But plans for a school reunion and two days of burpday celebrations in August are getting under way. The search is on for as many cheap and cheerful flourescent items of clothing, cosmetics and accessories for my day out with my gals. God bless eBay. We plan to look as ridiculous as possible, but these days that comes almost naturally.

Nothing much else going on at present but a quiet, peaceful patch in this so far tempestuous year would be very welcome. I better touch wood, cross everything and chant several mantras after typing that. OMMMMM...