How To Feel Better
1. When she walks down steps, May Blossom has taken to sometimes refusing the proffered hand of her father or me and instead holds her own hand. Independent much? Lacking understanding of the concept of the stabilising force an adult hand can offer? Very, very funny to watch? All of these things.
2. When she wants to warn anyone of anything — that the heater is on; that there is a flight of steps approaching; that the cat is nearing dinner time and could remove the next digit or limb that gets waved near her — May Blossom says ‘Careful, mate’ in the most splendid approximation of H’s voice.
3. May Blossom has started being potty trained … by my parents’ geriatric cat. Often when we are visiting, Sid will be carried up to the back of the garden to have a wee, because he can’t walk very well any more. Almost as often, when this happens May Blossom trots off to the bathroom and asks to use the toilet. And when placed on the toilet, she does a wee too. Left to my own devices, I would not have begun to think about toilet training her yet, but that just shows how much I’m in control of this show.
So those are cheering things to think about, but they work better in conjunction with cups of hot tea (real or pretend), wearing enough warm clothes, eating pink grapefruit and watching the BBC sitcom Miranda. They won’t fix a bad back, cure a sinus infection, stop the steady decline in your 102-year-old grandmother’s health, take the tissues out of your jeans before they go into the washing machine or help you put doctor’s appointments into your iPhone on the right day, but they might just allow you to continue putting one foot in front of the other.
Thanks, too, for all the excellent comments on my last post, about housekeeping. It seems my readers are divided equally among slatterns and Hyacinth Buckets. You’ll be pleased to know I did all my filing on Sunday. It made no visible difference to the appearance of Cold Comfort Flat, but at least I know it’s done. Look at me, kicking against the pricks.