29th January 2009

Not much in the way of headline news to report this time, other than Sue has finally shaken off the pleurisy for a second time and the mysterious allergic reaction that had her looking like a character from a medical textbook. It’s down to my superior nursing skills, Florence Nightingale, eat your heart out. However, just as we were preparing to raise the ‘All Clear’ flag, she’s now developed a painful swelling beneath her left eye. She’s looking tired, hasn’t yet settled back into a routine post-Christmas, and her immune system has all the bounce of a burst balloon. Half-term can’t come soon enough.

Nan, on the other hand, is now firmly settled into life at Willow Bank and has become rather attached to her ‘Batmobile’, otherwise known as the mobility scooter. She’s now so mobile she’s practically a menace. The wrist, however, is starting to ache again, possibly from excessive throttle use as she hurtles into town like Lewis Hamilton with a handbag. Over the past two weeks, she’s had her hair done twice, visited the shops more times than I care to count, and ticked off two physiotherapy sessions. We’ve also sampled a good selection of the local eateries, and at just under £6 for two meals, it’s hardly breaking the bank.

Next Wednesday, I’ll be taking her back to Rotherham for an eye check-up. She’s hoping I’ll leave her in Thurcroft for a bit, but that depends entirely on whether the wrist X-ray gets a green light and the eye consultant doesn’t pull a face. Fingers crossed (but not hers, obviously, bad wrist and all).

Sarah is currently wading through the swampy stress of exam season. A letter arrived from school last week praising her excellent performance in German, a rare win in the inbox these days. She’s keeping herself sane with swimming, Air Cadets, and charity work, all excellent distractions from a life buried in textbooks. Tread lightly around her, though. Exam Fever is still contagious.

I’ve managed to keep the cycling streak going every day, and with Saturday refereeing duties and regular wood chopping to keep the fire fed, I’m becoming suspiciously fit. I even popped into school to teach a few times. On one glorious occasion, I taught Year 6 about chemical reactions, my favourite topic. It was a roaring success: foaming beakers, excited shrieks, and no tedious paperwork or performance tick-boxes to ruin the fun. Just the way science should be.

Midweek, I received a rather gleeful phone call from Charlotte. The big news? Lucas is now officially ‘dry’. A truly momentous milestone for any parent, and for those of us who remember the nappy years, it’s up there with winning the lottery (but with slightly more mess). Later that week, she followed up with a text to say she’d joined a netball club and had just returned from training. Clearly, toilet triumphs are fuelling athletic ambition. Who knew potty training would lead to netball?

As for Jamie, he’s still working hard but seems to be enjoying life, a promising combination. More notably, he’s taken to joining us in the lounge during the evenings and, brace yourselves, has even begun engaging in conversation. Actual sentences. We’re not quite at “Ask Me About My Day” yet, but small miracles are still miracles.