The daffodils on my coffee table look bright and cheery. They not only brighten my room but my soul. They herald that winter is over (I hope) and that spring is here (I think). It's been a busy few weeks. I've been frantically cleaning the house to within an inch of its life before I am incapacitated by surgery, as well as sorting out appointments for me and my mother which will not be possible for a while after my surgery.
Kay had a cold - the monumental version of all colds - which saw her climb a mountain in the Lake District on a reunion with her old university medic friends. She puffed and wheezed up the slopes, barely able to catch her breath until one of her medic friends loaned her their asthma inhaler. Three days later, back home again, she saw her GP who diagnosed pneumonia! She's been on antibiotics, steroids and an inhaler ever since, but the good news is that she is recovering. She only took one day off work too. Of course she was striking this week. As I have said before, the junior doctors' strike has never been about money, but about the appallingly long hours the junior doctors work. Even being off sick was not an option to her when she was so ill. It was therefore very upsetting when
The weather cannot make up its mind. The other day, I went off to a hairdresser's appointment in blazing sunshine. At the very same time, it started to rain heavily. Crazy. Of course I was not dressed appropriately for rain. I came out of the salon looking like a model (I can hear you laughing, you know) and ended up back at my car in the car park like a drowned rat. That's par for the course when you've been to the hairdresser. Yep, Spring has definitely sprung.