Over the weekend I decided to back out of buying that flat as I realised I couldn't supervise the building work from 25 miles away. I emailed both the solicitor and the estate agent and haven't heard a thing from either. I was expecting to get an angry call from the agent but... nothing. A tiny cottage has come up for sale in East Barnet, Herts, near a good friend of mine. It means a bus to the tube station again, but that seems to have become the story of my life. I hope to see it on Saturday. If I bought it, I'd have to build a very big shed in the garden.
Our friend who has four boys already, aged 11, 9, 3 and 17 months, is in hospital right now giving birth to baby no. 5. I know she's praying for a girl at last. I can't wait to hear what she's had! Talk about being on tenterhooks. I feel as if I'm on a very large, spiky porcupine! Mr Grumpy is getting the worst of it as he has been babysitting three of the boys since 6.30 this morning. Tee-hee! The two youngest adore him and cling to his legs. I think they look on him as their granddad-substitute.
I killed two birds with one stone this morning. My poor chiropractor broke two ribs before Christmas and has been out of action for several weeks. Today was her first day back, so I went and got tweaked and twisted and then, by chance, the chiropodist was free, so I zoomed in and asked her to have a look at my fungal toenail (which was amongst the ailments I listed in my very first blog entry). I had been treating it with Curanail from Boots Chemist for two years, at a cost of £24 per bottle, then I thought, 'darn this' and mentioned it to my GP and got a bottle of something called Trosyd, which I promptly spilled all over my Turkish rug!
There was a bit left, so I have been applying it twice a day, but I thought if the chiropodist could shave the nail down, the stuff could get deeper into the nail. She filed it, then filed my callus which builds up on my right foot every year so that, by sandal-wearing time, I have a week with one of those callus-removing plasters on, then she clipped all my nails and gave me a lovely foot massage with E45 cream. She said I am doing all the right things and looking after my feet very well, so I belted for the bus and practically floated up the street to home.
Now I have put on the heating, as he isn't here to tell me not to, and my next task is to see if there is anything else in my wardrobe that can be thrown out. Wish my goddaughter wasn't in Shropshire right now as she is the world's best wardrobe editor, pulling stuff out, scowling, saying how horrible it is and hurling it into a bin bag. (As soon as she's gone, I pull half of it out again, of course!)
That's it for now. Still no phone call. It can't be long now, though. After four kids already, you'd think they'd pop out like greased rugby balls! Rugby balls with arms and legs, that is. And now, before I can go on any more flights of fancy, I am off to check the web to see if anyone else has thought of a kids' book idea I had yesterday. As my fingers are already crossed, I shall now cross my toes and eyes as well. Hope I don't fall off my chair!