An email from our doctor son today, reporting on his night shift. He went on,
Apparently the front of our building is sort of falling off, so builders need to come into the flat, take up the floor boards and tie the front of the building to the floor. I can't really see how this will achieve anything other than the front of the building taking a small slice of the floor with it when it crumbles to the ground, but what do I know? Unfortunately it's going to involve the sitting room, probably tomorrow when I'll be trying to sleep. Ah well.
I'm glad it's just a rented flat, that's all.
I do miss him. He's been gone for a year and ten months.
Mother feeling better, by the way, thank you. Aunt still cheerful but very forgetful. (Maybe that's the answer to life's problems: if you can't remember anything for more than about three minutes then you cease to worry.)