If I need any milk, I'll yell

For once, I don’t know what to write. My inclination is to post a huge cry of pain because Daughter 2 went back down to London yesterday. But who wants to read that? Her temporary job is going to continue at least for a while, which means that she has to rent out her bedroom in the Edinburgh flat she bought a year and a bit ago and has decorated beautifully. She needs to rent it partly because her flatmate lodger has lived for the past six weeks on her own, which Daughter 2 feels bad about; and partly because Daughter 2 needs the rent money in order to pay for the flat that she’s taken on for four months in London. So she spent a long time over the last two days bringing all the stuff from her room and some of the stuff from her kitchen, back here. Where most of it sits for the moment in boxes in her room in our house.

So she’s gone to: a job which might (or might not) end soon; a flat which she has for four months; and her actor fiancé – whom she loves. In London, 400 long miles away. And we miss her. And we wish that things weren’t quite as they are. And I’m sure she misses us, though she has friends in London apart from the actor fiancé.

But Daughter 1 and lovely son-in-law came back from visiting his parents today, which was good, and we have the Grandbaby to look forward to, which is wonderful. A life-saver, really.

And I know that this is just the way life is and she has to do what she has to do, so I’m filling the few days before I go back to work with social events. Loth (http://gymisntworking.blogspot.com/) came to coffee today, which was very enjoyable; Mr Life and I visited other friends in the afternoon; I’m lunching with work colleagues tomorrow; entertaining another friend on Thursday; and going out to lunch with former colleagues on Friday. I just have to fill my head with other things and ignore the sadness and worry. Don’t think don’t think don’t think don’t think. It’s the only way.

We climbed Blackford Hill on New Year’s Day and I slipped and sprained (or something) my ankle. My ankle and foot are now puffy and decorated with blue bits, my toes like slightly mouldy sausages. So I’m hobbling about and can’t drive. None of which matters all that much but it doesn’t exactly help.

Still, I enjoyed listening to Sandi Toksvig on the radio last night. For the purposes of the programme she’d watched her first ever football match, which she found somewhat tedious. As she pointed out, all the players have to do all day is to practise getting the ball into the goal, which they hardly ever managed in the game she saw. She felt it would all be over more quickly – and thus be more exciting - if they moved the goals closer together and gave the players a ball each.

Very true.

Onward and upward. Don't think don't think don't think.

(I hope none of my Australian bloggy friends are affected by the terrible floods. Oh dear, what a way to start the year for the poor people who've had to leave their homes!)