We were having our cup of tea in bed this morning when the phone rang. It was Uncle. 'When are you coming here? I need to see you both urgently.'
I looked at Husband. 'If he wants us to kill him we're not doing it!'
It wasn't really that urgent in the urgent sense of the word but he is increasingly anxious if left on his own for any length of time so we're having to come up with a rota of paid carers and volunteers. You forget how many hours there are in the day until you have to fill them with people.
However there was an article in his Daily Telegraph about au pairs now being given bed and board in return for looking after the elderly. Maybe he could have a glamorous French au pair - or even a Scandinavian who can do massage ... (without wishing to stereotype of course!)
Meanwhile George is unwell. 'What's the problem? asked the vet.
'Well, his eyes are red and ... he looks sad.'
'Is he lethargic?'
Didn't like to say it's hard to tell with George.
So we've got some eye drops to see if that helps with the prospect of a blood test looming if not.
On the plus side, in spite of spending a large part of the last week sitting in Uncle's flat and eating chocolate, I discovered this morning that I'd lost 2lbs in weight. So that's the way forward for me. Forget this exercise and sensible eating malarkey, I'm going to become a chocolate-munching couch potato.