I couldn’t help but be anxious, though I didn’t admit it. Weeza was having an operation on her knee today, having torn the meniscus – she didn’t know how but was having quite a lot of pain. She was very impressed by the speed and efficiency of the treatment – however much the NHS may be struggling, it still performs very well in many areas, as proved by my hip operation and her arthroscopy being done promptly, safely and well.
I met her at the hospital this morning and picked up the children, came back for the day and delivered them back there this evening where Phil, having come by train from the town where he works and then cycled the five or six miles to said hospital, was going to drive them all home. I knew I was tense from the ease with which z and Gus manipulated me into buying all the foods they liked for a treat, for their ‘picky’ dinner. On the way home from the hospital, we’d stopped at the nursery and bought primroses and planted up several potsful to cheer Mummy up as she recovers.
This afternoon, Stevo and Noah tackled the big barn. There’s no help for it, we’re going to have to get a skip – actually, this is a great relief as, until now, I’d been contemplating several trips to the tip and not relishing the thought at all. But there’s now simply too much stuff. It’ll be worth the 150 or whatever quid to get it all dealt with and taken away.
Tomorrow will, quite possibly, be a day off. Though we might sow some vegetable seeds, if we feel like it.