Secret garden

Last night was terrible. Poor HH was in great pain and spent most of the night standing bent over the bed, with me massaging his back. He couldn't even find a position and manage to lie down for more than a minute at a time, so obviously, neither of us slept a wink.

The surgeon had confirmed the twisted but gut (Lady Findhorn has just mentioned that's she'd never heard of a twisted but - ooops) and given the impression that he would probably operate early this morning, but with the pain ramping up all the time, it was 2 pm before they finally took HH to the operating theatre. Thank heavens, all went well, the op was straightforward and the surgeon was able to give me a double thumbs up sign and report success by 4 pm.

I finally got to see my old man at about 6 pm, but he was asleep, so I staggered off home, hoping that he would have a long, peaceful and richly deserved sleep. In fact, hope I will too.

When I went to get my breakfast this morning, expecting some artificially-lit canteen, I stepped instead into this lovely garden, with the hill and Atlantic rainforest behind it. And there was even the most beautiful blue butterfly, one I have never seen before. Surely that must be a good sign.