Just waiting for a call from the Pope

I am feeling so saintly. Having washed and ironed for both my Daughter and uncle I am busy polishing my halo while I wait for the phone call from the Pope that is sure to come any minute now.

But I wrote the post about my busy week not for sainthood - although if you're reading this, your Popeship -  but partly because a week like that doesn't happen often (thank heavens) and partly to remind myself that I achieve far more when I am under pressure than I do normally.

Most days when I have nothing special in mind I will dilly dally and waste time on the computer meaning I get to the end of the day and am annoyed with myself for not having done anything from the to-do list that is constantly in my head.

This last week wasn't like that though. Admittedly there was less achieving and more running around in circles but I could go to my bed each night feeling satisfied that I'd earned a good rest. Which probably says something about my upbringing and age.

My gran didn't have a washing machine or even a fridge. She did have a coal fire that needed frequent attention and a collection of brass that she kept sparkling clean. She never had a dilly dally sort of day so if she rewarded herself with a nightly glass of beer in the pub - or a scotch if someone else was buying - who can blame her?

The Park Inn in Mumbles with landlord Ronnie Jenkins and several members of my family at the bar.
At the front from right: Auntie Eva, Uncle Bun, my gran, 2 unknown ladies (possibly the cousins from Crewe), Auntie Connie.
Behind: Auntie Gay singing enthusiastically, Auntie Evelyn (not really my auntie) and my grandfather.