Still freezing here in the UK. You have no idea how cold it is...not the snow kind of cold, but the get in your bones kind. Peculiarly British. Thank heavens for my "recession heaters". I made a whole lot of them for gifts this year. You know...those heat wheat bag things. Only I filled them with rice. And the instructions came complete with the PS: If the recession bites too hard, slit open and cook the rice. They work really well, and all are enjoying them. Me too. Wonderful to put in the bed before you slither in. And the name? Well, I embroidered that on the covers with my embroidery machine., Everyone is talking of recession beaters, so I changed it to recession heaters. I am a genius. It amused me. And the friends who got them!
Right, where was I?? I never did mention that an "insurance investigator" came to visit last Friday, did I? Well, he denied the actual words, but we knew just why he was here. He had copious forms to fill in, which made me feel dreadful, but he was just doing his job, I suppose. They already had all the information. Still. Not a good feeling at all. I had all the paperwork and appointments and prescriptions etc at hand and he seemed fine. And I showed him the leg which is undoubtedly a sight to remember, though he was not that interested in visual evidence. But. There is always that BUT. I hate jumping through all these hoops. My bank manager, on the other hand, bashes his head on the table and says what on earth do you think insurance is for, you silly woman. He is right. I know that. I now have visions of investigators hiding in hedges.
You will be pleased to know that the hair straighteners have arrived. Sigh. They are beautiful. My hair will be tamed again. And that my car is full of life and bounce now that the battery has been replaced. It has a new heart. But what joy! It goes! I turn the key and it roars into life! A miracle! You may just guess that I am a happy bunny if my car goes and I have tamed hair. It doesn't take much to make me happy!
So I am spending my time slowly piecing together the cot quilt. A cot is a crib, I think? You know, the wooden thing babies sleep in with bars at the sides? Well, the Bump will be sleeping in that when she is a few months old and too big for the Moses basket. So she will quite obviously need a bigger quilt. I am sorting that one.
What with physio, endless exercises, cooking, cleaning, sorting, reading, sewing and all the rest of daily bits and pieces, I have nothing scintillating to report. Normal....well, as normal as it is possible... life continues. Friends drop in to visit. The phone rings. Emails to answer. Son to enjoy. He goes back the weekend after next.
And Bath on Monday. I am pinning everything on the experts there. I am ignoring the fact that my left arm now tingles and looks different. Or that my little finger on my left hand does not seem to be working properly either. CRPS can jump limbs. I stick the fingers in the ears and go lalalalalalalla and think...Bath. Monday. They will sort it. My friend Jackie, who has been to all my medical appointments recently, has changed her working days so that she can take me down and be at the consultations with me. Thank God for friends like this. Bath. Monday. They will sort it. Repeat.
So I am off the the cutting board again. I will be back later with, hopefully, something rivetting to discuss.