They still haven’t found what’s wrong with Andy. Two MRI scans, the lumbar puncture, an endoscopy and numerous blood and other tests have come up with nothing conclusive. They’ve sent blood to Cambridge for more specialised tests. It’s still a mystery. Whatever it is, it’s over and above the strokes.
I called on Gill’s mum today. She’s a delightful lady who never stops talking. I shall refer to her as Mrs Honeyman. She was born a month before my own mum, I found out, and her late husband shared Mummy’s birthday, but he was a year older.
Tomorrow, we’re going to meet the Sage’s sister Hebe for lunch and to exchange presents. We give her a Stilton, and have done each Christmas for decades. Every so often, we check that it’s still what she wants and she says she relies on it. She normally rents a cottage for a week, somewhere between her two offspring (one in Oxon, the other in Bucks) and they all muck in together for Christmas day. She’s a lot of fun, Hebe, and we’re very fond of her. She lives in Cromer so we normally meet up in Norwich – Hebe has glaucoma and so had to give up driving, so comes by bus usually.
There was a bit of a cock-up on the catering front this evening. I had bought sausages, and decided that the Sage would continue to love me if I made him toad in the hole. So I got them frizzling away while I made the batter, and then found I was 2 ounces shy of plain flour. I knew I was running short, so had bought … self-raising flour. There was still half a jar left of that in any case. It was past the point of no return with the batter, so I looked for the strong bread-making flour that I expected to have, but didn’t, and only came up with some buckwheat flour that I use for blini. I decided that I’d use a little of that and a little of the SR and that would be fine. Well, it wasn’t. It didn’t rise at all and was heavy. Nice enough flavour, but we just nibbled a bit round the edge and the rest will go to the chickens. They won’t mind. The Sage was highly amused by my mistake and promised not to think less of me.
I’ve done most of my shopping, except for the Sage, but I am out of inspiration for Squiffany. I’ve got her a couple of things, but not as much as I have for Pugsley, and I think his presents are more fun. In fact, I think that boys’ presents are more fun than girls, on the whole. When Weeza was a child, I got them the same sort of things, I didn’t treat them differently on account of their sex, but the whole thing seems to be so much more rigid now, and nearly everything seems to be invisibly labelled – well, not so invisibly, because everything “for girls” is a relentless pink. I asked Dilly for more ideas, and she said it’s difficult because Squiffany spends most of her time reading and writing. Dilly suggested buying clothes or else tickets for the pantomine in Yagnub, which is a thought if I’m really stuck, but it won’t help on Christmas Day when Pugsley is enjoying his cool toys and Squiff is looking at pieces of paper. Ho hum.