and so it goes on

Dear Diary,
Flowers from Istanbul. I was amazed to open the door this afternoon and be greeted by a face full of flowers - condolences from friends at home for the loss of darling Connie-Dog yesterday. At sixteen years of age, and living on campus, everyone knows Connie-Dog, a 'campus character' tiny in body but HUGE in personality, boundless courage in the face of wild beasts (large dogs and children), superb herding skills with cats, fine food taster and connoisseur - bless. The pain goes on, but I hadn't time to dwell because of concern about Dad - until these flowers arrived, whereupon I howled. It's a process.

The day had started by taking Dad to his GP - family doctor - whose indifference to and disinterest in my father's pain was so astonishing that I was bereft of response when he actually huffed and puffed at me when I said there were several issues to discuss. Too angry to write more about that.

Moving on, I dropped Dad off at home and DROVE to Asda in his car. I haven't driven in the UK since around 1999 and as I am usually beholden to other folk to cart me about when here (usually Dad in fact) the freedom is fun, even if it is only to go to the supermarket in undesirable circumstances.

Early evening, my brother called, with the kids, and we all had tea from the local chippy after which the children drew smiles by playing, as kids do, in Dad's garden, Leapfrog and "It". Great fun to watch.

Another day is done, and so it goes on.


Warm, sunny @ 27ºC - who would have thought it, in England?!