Happy and sad things

Daughter 2's in-laws were due to come for the weekend and though she was (non-infectiously) unwell, she agreed to their coming because she's a lovely person and they hadn't seen Littlest Granddaughter since Christmas and who knows when they'll see her again? There was some trepidation about their journey (from Nottingham) on the train because of the coronavirus - they're both disabled. But they were keen to see the little one, so they did come. And since Daughter 2 and her family live in a two-bedroom flat, I went to my brother and sister-in-law's in Surrey for the weekend, which was lovely (though possibly ill-advised for the same reason. But we did a lot of hand-washing). We went for a walk in a park and passed this, fairly recently uncovered, tiled doorway for Sainsbury - it's a while since they've used that font.

And the next day, they took me to Wisley, a Royal Horticultural Society garden, which was wonderful. Lots of people our age were there, all keeping our distance from each other and breathing in lovely fresh air. We hope.

It was so hard to take in that anything much was wrong in the world.

So many daffodils.

And hellebores.

And tulips.

And then I went back to Daughter 2's in case she still needed help with the little one, but she was much better.

"Dis," said Littlest Granddaughter in the garden, "is [her name] wiv a plate on her head."

And actor son-in-law went to his theatre to do a show, met up with the rest of the cast of Showstopper The Improvised Musical, of which he's a key member, got changed - and then the Government shut all the theatres down. It was probably a good thing to do but it means that he and his friends are suddenly without income. Dire. And Daughter 2 is an architect and deals mainly with remodelling hotels, and their main client has cancelled their projects. Hmm...

And then I came home, trying not to breathe deeply or touch anything on the train. This is King's Cross station. It doesn't usually look so deserted.

Come back, 2019; all is forgiven.

Well, that was a long gap between blog posts. We had a lovely visit from Son, his wife, Middle Granddaughter and Little Grandson - seems ages ago now. Son had shaved off his beard because coronavirus masks don't fit snugly enough over beards. (He's a doctor.) He grew it because their children don't sleep through the night, and by not shaving, he doesn't have to get up so early in the morning. I must say I prefer being able to see his face but I'm his mother, so am probably biased. Anyway, here he is communing with his cute little boy, now nine months. Little Grandson has a lovely head of dark hair and the sweetest little smiley face - though apparently not so smiley in the middle of the night.

And then Daughter 2 became unwell and I went down to London to help with Little Granddaughter and am only just back. Here she is, serenading me on the triangle. She is so lovely.

Sometimes Daughter 2 was well enough to come with us to feed the ducks.

They live opposite Epping Forest. You can see how wet it's been down there.

There's the forest out of their living room window.

I took Littlest Granddaughter to a play centre which is fitted out as shops, a doctor's, a vet's, a fire station etc.

And then things became even direr than they were before, as the virus spread.

Not relaxing

Well, I must say I'm finding this retirement lark surprisingly exhausting. For the past... oh... two years I've been saying to myself: well, I'll leave that [some un-urgent and time-consuming task] till I retire. And now here I am.

So far - among many other things - I've: taken my mother to the doctor 3 times, visited South Queensferry with Mr Life, gone to the dentist, interviewed two letting agents on behalf of Daughter 2, partly tidied the study, cleared out my vase/flowerpot cupboard, taken a whole lot of stuff to a charity shop, spent a whole day in my mother's garden doing a major tidy, taken my mum to a drinks do in a distant part of Edinburgh, brought her back again, fed the family at various times, gone to an exhibition with Daughter 1, cleaned the fridge (I don't want you to think that this is the first time I've done this in 2 years, mind you - similarly the dentist), brought Daughter 1 here to make my blog prettier, weedkillered our and my mother's paths... and stuff like that.

Not very thrilling, but it needed to be done. And there's lots more.

Also what I've been doing, though, is fretting about this baby. I'm ageing visibly. Look, there's another grey hair. Here comes a wrinkle. Goodness me, the stress!

Sirius, meanwhile, has been having a bit of a snooze.

Pensive

I walked to and from work today – a total of 6 miles, which isn’t very far but which made it seem a good idea to go out into the garden and collapse on the grass for a while when I got home. And I started my usual round of worrying, about:

My mother being 87 and what the future might bring for her
Daughter 1 being about to start the dissertation for her second Master’s degree rather than being at the stage I was at when I was her age (not that this was particularly impressive either)
Climate change
Interest rates and banking and so on
Getting old, fat and wrinkly
World peace or the lack of it
Daughter 2 going out with a mostly-unemployed actor
Son being overworked as a junior doctor
My very small projected pension because of my having been an at-home mummy for nine years
Son having left home so that we hardly see him (because he's a very overworked junior doctor and has very little spare time)
What to do with the cats when we go away on holiday in the future
What we'll do without the cats because they won't live forever
The ivy on the back walls of the garden, which probably will live forever, getting bigger and bigger, alas
Whether I'll get done everything that I need to, by the end of my holiday from work
Whether I'll ever get the photos organised even if I live to 100
Possibly living to 100, when I would be a burden on my children

And so on

And then along came Sirius. He rubbed his warm, solid, fluffy tummy against my cheek as I lay on the grass and then he leaned companionably against me for a while, purring. He wandered round my recumbent form, looking at me curiously. Then he sat on my head: the very best kind of furry hat.

That’s why I like cats. They don’t worry. They just make the best of things.