Nine Feet Underground

Last morning in Liverpool for a few weeks, sadly.  Lots going on, especially in Q's world.  I also have to try and solve a problem at home, or at least help someone get back on track.  It's causing me an immense amount of stress, more than I had realised, so I really do need to drive out some changes. We've had breakfast and I've now packed the car with everything ready for the off.  My journey will take an initial detour via a fuel stop - filling up here is so much cheaper with diesel at 158.9p/litre. I'm properly on my way, though there seem to be a lot more cars on the road, guess there may be a reason for that. I'm back now, though I picked up son #3 enroute so he could visit his mum with son #1 (son #2 is still in Costa Rica, after a change of plans).   On the way home I had a couple of calls with Q, the second of which was to tell me I'd left my laptop behind. Luckily it was my personal laptop (and a whole bunch of other tech stuff that's in the la...

A quiet and late start to the day.  Not a lot planned, more of a chilled day getting things organised for the upcoming heightened period of activity. We had a late, cooked breakfast, a pleasant way to start the day. Breakfast is over and it's time for housework.  Vacuuming and floor mopping, with an attempt to fix the patio door thrown in for good measure.  I'm not sure how things moved across to this topic, but in the afternoon I found myself investigating my DNA and updating my family tree.  This became absorbing and, having made a fair bit of progress populating the tree, it was suddenly dinner time.  I say 'suddenly', but Q had started making dinner earlier and was cooking a Korma she'd made in the slow cooker. After dinner we returned to the family tree, despite the rain and wind. A merry evening was had by all. Q's daughter is returning from Europe later and Q is due to pick her up from the airport.  Q is feeling tired so I offer to drive instead, and...

Back to work. Another working day that's been pretty full on from start to finish, with a long conference call when lunch might normally have been. Can't say any more on the subject and don't really want to either. One great personal success of the day: I flushed my wife's catheter (third time lucky) which will have helped to prevent me needing to call out the Community Nurses.  I get to do it again on Thursday, unless something goes wrong in the meantime.   I don't get to do much else on working days, at least not until the evening,  which means there's less to say.  This evening I'm hoping will include reading the 'Wake, listening to music and, once I've helped create dinner, watching the third episode of 'Wisting'. Time for the final carer visit of the day, though (catheter still flowing, thankfully), stopping to answer the door.  This week's poem is by Mary Oliver, an American writer who won the Pulitzer Prize, but who, until...