She's made it – Mum is 87 today and Rick brought her back home from his house, where she's been for the past 2 weeks to avoid the hellhole that is (still) our house of dust.
So we hoofed off to the Country Arms in Wandsworth (charmingly situated a stone's throw from Wandsworth Prison) for an enormous fish and chips pub lunch. Despite failing at finishing her fish (which Scrumpy did rather well out of, hmm) Mum's second stomach soon kicked in, just in time for a large Bakewell tart.
Rick managed some impressive conversation before his real urge took over – and he settled off happily to sleep, much to the amusement of the pub staff.
And from there, back to where every 87 year old granny wants to really spend their birthday – dozing happily on her sofa in front of the TV, with the cat on her.
Happy Birthday Mum – luckily the lovely conversation in the car on the way back as to whether Rick would recommend getting a DNR in place went straight over her 'I'm not really listening' head and all she could say was 'where are my glasses' – repeatedly. Pretty much sums up our lives really!
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