Daughter and I are back on easy terms again - that's the funny thing about family arguments, after a very short while you just can't remember what all the fuss was about. Anyway, we got together this morning to return one of her presents to Zara (a t-shirt with the sequins falling off) and replaced it with a t-shirt without sequins. Next we wandered round Habitat looking at picture frames to fit Grandson's Christmas photos, and then we had a really frothy cappucino in the Border's Coffee Shop. It's odd not having any work to do after last week.
This morning on Dombey and Son, I could feel all the loose ends being gradually pulled together. The fact that Dickens wrote his stories in parts, which were published either weekly or monthly, means that they lend themselves perfectly to being serialized (and the radio is the best medium, I think, because we create our own pictures to fit the characters and the descriptions). Walter Gay came back from the dead at the end of today's episode, which I was sort-of expecting anyway. It's a good Dickens device for putting the cat among the pigeons, and since there was no telephone or any other kind of immediate communication, these happenings were quite acceptable. News certainly didn't travel fast in those days. Carker has disappeared, with a yellow flower in his buttonhole (I wonder if Mrs Dombey might be the cause of that?), and Mr Dombey is about to fall, or be tripped up. Next instalment please!
Later this afternoon, I went with Daughter to see her Doctor about the aftermath of her treatment for pre-cancerous cells in the cervix. Poor thing, she has been bleeding constantly since the procedure was done - a couple of months ago - with a break of only two or three days. No wonder she is looking pale. Her Doctor was extremely nice, and is proposing some treatment. He has given her more antibiotics in case the continued bleeding and discharge are caused by another infection, and will do a physical examination on Friday, to see if anything is amiss. He said he doesn't think that there's anything bad to worry about - just that it's sensible to check things out. I have been saying this to Daughter for some time now, but I don't think she wanted to listen, or to do anything about it. I don't blame her at all, because the whole business is pretty unpleasant, but it's potentially too serious to ignore.
Heaven knows why, but I'm really tired this evening. I have written some more Christmas cards and added a few things to my Christmas List. Nothing exactly taxing.
Perhaps it was watching Nigella producing her Express Christmas goodies in such an effortlessly casual way! I'm sure it can't be as easy as it looks, but I might have a go at her spiced peaches and ham - and the gorgeous fudge with crushed pistachios. Tomorrow I'm planning to get most of my Christmas Shopping done - and Wednesday is Daughter's Birthday, so that will be devoted to giving her a nice day. She will be 26! The Boyfriend is taking her out for dinner, so I'll have Grandson here for the night. Ooh goody, an excuse for a lovely cuddle.
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3 comments:
Hi, Margot, I see you were in a nice, reflective mood. Easy reading, baby.
Hey, Mrs Billy and I never miss Nigella. Easy watching (for me).
I could never cope with Dickens. Just too much like hard work.
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Came to you via - er, can't remember, but v much wanted to reassure you about your daughter's pre-cancerous cells. I had that about 20 years ago, very frightening, but had them zapped (watching all the while on a scary colour screen: seeing it adds to the pain, and not helped by medics drifting in and out and taking a casual peer, eek!) but all well ever since. It's pretty common, I think, if that's any comfort. Best wishes to her!
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