Posts Tagged friends

A couple of weeks ago, I spent the weekend in the company of some old school friends (not to mention various chickens, ferrets and cats) at one of our number’s rather gorgeous and very spacious Georgian/Victorian house. Well, with 3 acres, it’s more of an estate really and all of the vegetables we ate for dinner we’d picked fresh from the kitchen garden. If that weren’t enough to elicit envy admiration, her kitchen is bigger than my living room. I wanted to move in! (My DH kindly offered to parcel up and send the dog and Ebay the children).

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I have had *the* best day. I went up to the big smoke (London) on the train. We will gloss over the trauma of visiting my Mum (90 this year) in the morning and her not knowing who I am, then getting upset at forgetting her daughter and doing the weeping and breast-beating thing. This is nothing new and I am not distressed by it any longer. She usually remembers my children and when I have them with me, she knows who I am so it is usually OK. Sometimes she even remembers me when I am on my own, but sometimes she doesn’t.

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Last week was an interesting one and further proof for me of the fundamental interconnectedness of all things.

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