When not in Rome

Six weeks till the fat man in the red suit sings! Many of us are not where we want to be or with who we thought we’d be with!

So we paint our house pink, we watch the overseas news(not always by choice) we cook strange European concoctions from a mass produced food delivery company and roll through a lost year!

The past week has flown into oblivion, with committee meetings, all night sleepovers at the hospital (again not by choice), frantic work life selling boxes (that are yet to be unloaded sitting in the Auckland harbour), celebrating Trudis birthday at home, visits from long lost hockey pals and changing flat tyres (lucky I was born in the 60’s!)

Roll back, Dad was unwell on Wednesday, and off we went to the hospital…where he was determined to get out of on Friday, not listening to the doctors or the offspring with the honorary nursing degree, he managed to wrangle his release with other family members! (After telling me to leave only to find a flat tyre to deal with before heading back to work) He didn’t manage to get out of car before being sent back through two hospitals ending up where he should have stayed.

Yours truly’s plans were then thwarted for the weekend and another Saturday was spent in the hospital! The boys filled in for the annual working bee at the cottage and we all caught up in the evening to watch the Rugby, (not a very rewarding day all round)

Sunday brought sunshine, a little deck sanding and pack up in preparation for the working week.

I think Dad will be back today, after seeing doctors and listening to the experts! So the week begins with a coffee and deep breath!

Life is just too busy and one almost looks back on lockdown and sees this as a time to be kind to our bodies (that are not getting any younger)