Pottering & Chatting

Early start as H off to work by 6.15am and Cathy actually up, hair washed and over to sort out her rental flat by 8am. So I found myself at my laptop by 8.15am, having already had my first dose of the vile cherry liquid antibiotic, and a cup of tea.

Emailed Calcot Manor, which we've booked into for our wedding anniversary in May, to check they have no problem with taking Big C patients in the spa for treatments. All too often there's the 'sorry we can't do a massage for you if you've got The Nasty' and I wanted to avoid any chance of a scene when we're away. Normally I just lie through my teeth and tick the 'nope, nothing wrong with me' box on the spa form, but I twigged that the lack of hair might be a bit of a giveaway still in May. Anyway, hats off to them, got a nice email back saying all fine on that front, so that's a good start.

Pottered about doing more chores, took the car to the car wash, bought some cakes for afternoon tea, chased mum's accountants for a tax rebate and tried on three new tops – the fleece gets to stay, the other two are definitely return to sender.. Nice though to be back doing 'normal shit' even if much of it's not that thrilling.

Fiona McA came over in the afternoon for a good old natter and to help me polish off the cakes over a cup of tea. Think I may have to hide the giganteous bar of Dairy Milk that came with her from Mr H, what a corker.

Up to the common afterwards to meet H again. Back a right pain but worth the aggro to get some fresh air, I've def been in the house waaaaaaay too much these last 6 weeks. Even volunteered to drive Cathy to Wickes to get some more stuff for her flat. As she got in the (newly washed) car, a major niff of what I thought was an impressive Scott family fart wafted up my nose, so as any good sister does, I accused her of bringing a very bad trump into the car. This was denied, and we drove off, windows down, with the pong still intact.

Did Wickes and got a nice young man to help load her sink and bits into the boot. Again, a very bad waft emerged. Poor chap legged it back into the store, clearly thinking we were a pair of stinkers. At this point I spotted the dog walking bag also in the boot – with a virulent Scrumpy turd in a thin pooh bag in it…. H for some reason had stashed it away instead of dropping it in a dog bin. Lobbed it into a lucky Wickes bin and the rancid smell mystery was solved. 

Cathy's request for a curry takeaway was granted, despite her being in the 'nothing hotter than a karma or tikka masala' camp, which always does make me wonder if it's worth having a cuzza in the first place.. Managed a smidge of TV then all in bed by 9.30pm. What a wild and crazy life we lead x