Return of Nurse Flowerpot

I arrived home to find my writing seat at my desk occupied by a certain male cat. In my absence, judging by the seat covered in white hairs, Buster has been using my computer. I am no longer the only writer in the family. What has he been saying? I’ve checked my blog but there’s nothing there, so it’s entirely possible that he has set one up himself. How do I find out? What would he call it? Buster Blog? Diary of a Falmouth Feline? Down with Dogs? The possibilities are endless…

We left my mother looking very small, sad and vulnerable. I wanted to scoop her up and bring her home. She hates us going and was Extremely Appreciative, dear thing. We had provided just the right level of care, apparently, which even if it wasn’t true was a very lovely thing to say. In fact, several times she said how good I was at looking after her. I think that was when I’d run up and down stairs about 15 times and was getting decidedly Snappy. But she’s doing much better and you’d never think she’d had major surgery only a few days ago.

While in Devon I developed a habit of waking at 5am. When Mollie sensed this, she decided that she’d like a pee, so I had to let her out (at home she lets herself out through the catflap). Once I’d done this and given her breakfast, I couldn’t get back to sleep, and as I didn’t want to wake Himself or Mum, I would go back to bed and read, looking at the clock every now and then to see when it was 7am which, I felt, was a reasonable time to get up. My mother, who is a night bird, was horrified to see me hanging out the washing at 7.30 one morning. She couldn’t appreciate that it was a beautiful sunny morning and the best time of the day, and stared at me blankly, obviously wondering how she’d produced a daughter who likes mornings.

Now I must say I’m feeling a bit jetlagged. We’d packed the car, hoovered the house and I’d walked Mollie by 9.30 this morning so felt we might as well leave. However, we had to stop in Saltash for coffee (my back starts aching after about ¾ of an hour so I have to get out and unstiffen it.) Then we stopped in Lostwithiel for a picnic and to give Mollie a run in the meadows down by the river. Then we had to stop at Tesco in Truro as there is zilch in the fridge. So it took us 4 hours and my head’s spinning. It’s very nice to be home. I’m sort of thinking it’s time for a glass of wine but – oh God, it’s only 3.45.

Anyway, good parental relations are restored and Mum has someone else arriving this afternoon to look after her, so she’s in good hands, plus all her friends that pop in bringing flowers, books, food and drinks. Even so, it was hard to leave her. I keep seeing that pale little figure, in her pale blue dressing gown, looking agonised. Oh hell…..