Weeza rang me just before 7 – I’d decided, in the end, to wait until Phil was home just to make it plain that I wasn’t fussing. I don’t fuss but I can look as if I do. My family thinks I worry, when I really just look worried. Actually, I feel extremely emotional. But not uncontrollably so. I have realised that, however close you are and how much you love your son and his wife, it’s different when your daughter is going to have a baby.
Still, be cool at all times. Relaxed. Supportive. Weeza has seen the midwife – the one she saw before, and liked, is on holiday for the next fortnight and the one who rang her the other day is a bit of a fusspot and if Weeza hadn’t known her onions, she might have been made anxious. As it was, she explained the situation (she is Rhesus negative and has had injections) and later the midwife rang back to say she was right as she’d checked with the lab. Weeza was patient. Today’s midwife was lovely and they got on fine. They have discussed Norwich’s 10 day overdue guideline, and NICE’s 14 day one, and come to an agreement. Weeza is very diplomatic. It was her job (she was not a diplomat).
Anyway, in other news…I cycled in to help in the shop this morning as Tim looks after his children in alternate weeks during the holidays. Al’s Saturday staff are filling in but it’s quite busy on a Friday. In the event, it kept raining so we had to rush out and bring in vulnerable stock, mostly flowers and peaches, and then take them out again. Additionally, there are a lot of orders to deliver on a Friday which need to be made up. I did them, which saved Al a job on a busy Friday afternoon. However, I had to meet the chap servicing the church boiler at the church to let him in – with remarkable foresight, I’d given him my mobile number (not knowing I’d be in the shop) to give me 20 minutes warning so I didn’t have to wait all morning at the church. He rang at 10.40 and it was raining. Lovely Sage had already rung to say he’d pick me up, so we phoned and he was able to fit the bike in the van.
I made the boiler chappie happy. I told him I’d put the heating on for a few hours this morning. His face brightened. “That’s really good news! The heating isn’t normally on at this time of the year and the boiler do sweat.” Last time I’d met him, he’d been a bit patronising, but he was all good cheer and helpfulness – I was glad that I’d set the timer. It made his job easier, so he’d passed the goodwill on; not that he had been awkward before, I’m not criticising…oh blimey, let’s just drop it, okay?
Apart from the tenterhooks, it’s been good. Yesterday, I approached someone about taking over a chairmanship from me next year and she demurred, but only politely. I think she will agree. The boiler chappie, as I said, was very helpful. My friend who we had lunch with gave me some lovely trout, which I baked en papillote (not sure about relative numbers of ls and ts there) which her husband catches and brings home in greater numbers than they can eat – two were too much for us too and tomorrow I have scope with delicious leftovers.
Phil is pleased because he has successfully cycled up Mousehold Heath and then further uphill for a couple of miles, on consecutive days. He has worked out that his cycling uses 900 calories a day. Gosh, is all I can say there. Certainly, I will never be able to cycle up Mousehold Heath, even with a bike with more than 3 gears. Humility is good and I’m more than happy to embrace it.
The Sage has been entirely charming. He brought me wine, he scrubbed potatoes and now he has brought me a bowl of raspberries. The prospect of new as well as existing grandfatherhood is making him even more adorable.