The man in the post office

The man in the post office was learning the job and being all nice and friendly when he asked, 'How are you today?'

I don't think he expected me to say, 'Not very good. I might burst into tears at any moment.'

I really wasn't expecting this depth of emotion. My 'happy pill' keeps me on an even keel so I don't normally experience the very highs or very lows, and I'd assumed this would be the same. I really thought that when they'd gone I'd just get on with it. I wasn't anticipating this hammering.

I keep telling myself it could be so much worse, and that it won't be that long, covid-allowing, until I see them again, but nothing is stopping this sick feeling.

I'm sorry to go on about it but this has totally thrown me.

But we had a nice walk this morning with Elder Son and his dog, Toby. We have Younger Son's dog, Lobo, staying with us until his own private taxi arrives to pick him up next week. They weren't able to book him onto the flight with them but apparently this man makes a living out of transporting pets across the continent. 

Lobo (black) and Toby (brown)

That said, as it turned out, Younger Son and family couldn't get onto the flight either: their covid test results weren't back in time, and in spite of much shouting on the phone they were forced to book a hotel room for the night, and new flights for this evening. 

They've just had new tests done at the airport - 30 minute turnaround. All in all it's cost them more than an extra £1,000.