With all the things going on last month I completely forgot about Hilary’s birthday.  What with Dad, the poetry night and pancakes with Derek.  My mind has been distracted.

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Rang Hilary and had long heart to heart.  I let it slip I had made pancakes for Derek and how it felt so natural and normal to have him in the kitchen.  Big mistake.  She plied me with questions.  His age, (why did she have to start with that one), job, height, eyes, hair, and hobbies.  After she’d finished the 3^rd degree we discussed what to do about Easter Sunday lunch.  Family tradition dictates we all go round to Mum and Dad’s but I’m not sure Mum would cope this year.  The stress of Dad being in hospital last month and still not 100% has taken its toll on Mum.  But I know if we try and suggest something different we will be told ‘So you think I’m too old to cope’.  Hilary suggested she does the food and I do the Easter Egg Hunt.  She is well aware of my culinary limitations.  I am the butt of many a family joke that I don’t know my way around a kitchen.  Not totally true.  Anything on toast I’m your woman and pancakes of course!  She tentatively suggested Derek could come to lunch on Easter Sunday.  Heavens NO.  I’m not ready to broach that subject with Mum and Dad yet.  If ever.  No way am I ready for that level of grilling.

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Hilary and I are going for lunch, just the two of us, a belated birthday present from me.  We are going to try the new Japanese and French fusion café just opened.  It looks rather austere.  I pressed my nose against the window last week, bare wood tables and stools, but I hear good reports of the food. Have visions of sushi crepes.  Is there such a thing?  Will there be chopsticks or cutlery?

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For Easter Hilary produced a magnificent crown rack of lamb with frilly paper hats on each bone. In the middle was a stuffing made of raisins, sultanas, red currants and nuts.  There were roast potatoes and my favourite roast parsnips.  I organised the Easter Egg Hunt for everyone around the house and garden.  The girls had a great time outside while the adults conducted a more leisurely search inside.  When I arrived home I found a package wrapped up in cellophane with a yellow bow on my doorstep.  The card read.  ‘Sorry I missed you.  Hope you like chocolate.  Happy Easter. Derek’.  Is there any woman in the world who doesn’t like chocolate?  I texted Derek back ‘😊 I love chocolate.  Thank you’.

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OMG what a terrible few days.  Charles Dickens managed to get one of his paws caught in some rusty barbed wire.  He came home meowing pitifully and limping with it still stuck in his paw.  The vet said if I could get him down to the surgery before 7pm she would take a look.  In a total panic I rang Derek, he has a car, I wasn’t sure I could cycle there in time.  Charles Dickens was a pathetic sight in his travelling basket.  The vet said he would need an operation under anaesthetic to remove the wire.  She said she could do it then but Charles Dickens would need to stay in overnight so they could keep an eye on him.  The cottage seemed very lonely without him.  Derek stayed for a bit and went for fish and chips from the chippy near St Dunstan’s, it has won awards apparently. I couldn’t help thinking how Charles Dickens would have enjoyed a bit of the cod, minus the award-winning batter.

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Rang vet this morning, he had a good night, but they want to keep him in for a bit longer to check there is no infection. Derek took me over after work so I could see him.  He is in a large cage with newspaper on the floor and an old, faded towel as a bed.  Note to self, look out some old towels to take to the vets for other future patients.  Charles Dickens’s paw is all bandaged and he has a drip.

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We picked up Charles Dickens this evening.  He still looks a bit worse for wear.  The vet said I needed to keep his paw bandaged and dry: Derek suggested a condom, the vet said this would work very well.  He offered to go into the chemist on the way home. I think he was trying to save my blushes.

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Spent yesterday evening making a mess planting my tomatoes, peppers, and cucumber seeds for salad this summer.  I know it would have been easier to do it outside but it was wet and cold and I’m already late in getting them in; so, I covered the kitchen table with newspaper.  Charles Dickens tried to help by getting up on the table.  I think he thought the pile of potting compost would make a good litter tray.  Since his mishap with the barbed wire he’s not at all keen about going out in the rain to do his business.  Finally had a row of little pots on my kitchen windowsill, just need to remember to water them now!