Back

Well, I got down to London and saw this little person and her mum and dad. Which was lovely. And now I'm back. 

While I was away, I marvelled at Daughter 2's organised way of storing Lego. 

And, at the Museum of the Home, at William Morris's high standards for chaps. 

Daughter 2 decorated her mantelpiece

and her fairly enormous tree. 

And Littlest Granddaughter practised lots of leaping off the sofa.

Daughter 2 and her husband have (theoretically, at least) sold their flat and are trying to buy a house. Even in the outer suburb that they live in, you get very little house in London for a vast sum of money, the sort of sum that even in expensive Edinburgh would buy you a nice four-bed, two-public, two-bathroom in a good area. Not in London, though. There are lots of people all after the same eye-wateringly expensive small houses. It's very sad. I always feel sad when I part from them, but even more when they're spending so much time looking at houses and not succeeding in getting anything. Daughter 2, being an architect, doesn't just vaguely think where they could put the furniture, like most people, but draws out the floor plans of the houses they see and thinks how she could improve them. So far, however, there's not been an opportunity to put her ideas into action. 

I find London very stressful - so busy, so enormous, so many people that you see momentarily and never again. I had coffee with a friend on Wednesday and it took me an hour and 25 minutes to get to where we were meeting. (Fortunately I'd left an hour and a half for the journey.) It just takes so long to get anywhere. I find tube travel very nerve-racking, too - I hate being underground. I so wish they weren't living there. But they are, and will continue to do so.

Moan, moan, moan. I'm trying hard to count my blessings... .