I had better quickly write up a diary for the last week - before I forget. We set off for the bungalow a day late, on Saturday. There were 14 of us (counting the new baby) for the turkey dinner on the 25th. My sister did her usual masterful job of feeding us all, and Col and I helped with preparing the vegetables and clearing up. A days rest (for arthritis reasons, mine), and we did a lunch here for Jo, Jen and Kathryn. We all caught up with things. No walking sticks this year. Then another days rest and off to York yesterday, for a curry lunch with Keith, Janet, children and friends, followed by a mulled wine evening. To Jim's tonight (Col's old boss), and then to Lilac Tree Farm for family reunion No.2. Followed by Aunt Bea on Sunday. She is giving us lunch.
Overall... the bungalow and the house at York have undergone many changes over the year - most impressive. There is a new set of steps and a gate in the garden here for one thing, which makes it even more interesting and mysterious. I hope its going to provide some wonderful memories for the new young Eleanor Margaret.
And Scooter seems to have got her Masters in CatFlappery. She manages to clatter the flap louder than ever, the moment we start to fall asleep. I was lying in bed - awake through arthritis pains, all over - and I suddenly found a new pain being added to my pantheon - severe pins and needles in the sole of my foot. Then I realised I was being Scootered. She can't resist attacking a foot in the middle of the night. I got myself safely under the duvet again, and started to drift away in a haze of painkillers, when, suddenly CLATTER, CRASH, EXIT CAT FLAP stage left.
It seems noticeable, on the few times that politics/the state of things are mentioned, that people are giving up any hope in politicians.
Will they seek for the Refuge?
Surely some of them will.