I got a call last Thursday, telling me that the 'indication' as they call it had come through, and that Dad will have to be moved to the nursing home within the next 7 days. It came on the same day my department had been told that because of 'business needs', all leave for the coming fortnight had been cancelled. Definitely a conflict of interests there, then.

I'd been feeling grotty, sniffly and sneezy all week, so I took a sickie last Friday, and then, after moping around at home for a few hours, took myself off for a little spot of retail therapy (ssshhhh, don't tell my boss!). It proved quite successful, in that lightening my purse cured my sniffles and sneezes most effectively as soon as I'd acquired these:



perfect for the summer, I think, if and when it comes

while a few days earlier, I'd bought these:


oops! I can see I need to dust behind the radiators!


But...there is a God, and vengeance is His: the next day, I discovered I had an ingrown toenail, and now I won't be able to wear them any time soon. Well, not this week, I think.