I always help my little girl get ready for school in the mornings. Pulling off her Dora the Explorer pyjama top, naturally pink, I spy with my little eye several reddish spots. Tis the chickenpox methinks. My immediate thought is how this might impact on our planned visit to my mum at the weekend. A telephone call later confirms that we cannot go as this is one of the rules of the steroids prescribed by Macmillan.
Speaking to Mum, she sounded like she was back to her old self and some! Strongly suspect she is overdosing on steroids and apparently is working through mountains of ironing and feeling very chirpy indeed.
Reality check when she says "I will still be here when you do manage to get her".
There is, I assume, no actual guarantee of that.
I have a red heart-shaped helium balloon that my daughter bought for her Daddy for Valentines Day. It has been sitting on my television set for days and it makes me think of Mum. Slowly going down but for now, still full of love. The children start playing with it whilst I am on the telephone punching it. Am ridiculously upset at this but manage to focus on loving them. After all, it is just a silly balloon. I have just thought that when Mum had being nasty to me in some way she always used to come in to my bedroom and say, "You'll have to forgive your Mummy. She is just a silly sausage"
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