It's feels strange blogging in the evening. Usually it is early in the morning and the rest of the day is lying in front of me, waiting to be walked through. Now the day is coming to an end and I have left my footprints all over it. Mondays always feel like crazy days and I am always glad when it gets to the evening and all the groups at the Children's Centre have finished and the kids have been taken to and fetched from everywhere they have to go after school. Sometimes it feels less like walking through a day and more like whirling through it madly. And we only have two kids and Ninesh and I share the load. I don't know how all of you with three or more kids do it, especially if you are on your own.
At the moment, Joss has to go to hospital 3 times a week. He is having phototherapy and often I find myself sitting next to other patients while I wait for him. And it is like collecting stories listening to them. Today I sat next to someone from Pakistan. He is working as a chef in Butlins holiday camp but only because love drew him away from London, where he was training with Gordon Ramsay.
" Is he as scary in real life as he seems to be on telly?" I asked.
" Oh, he is very scary," said my waiting-room neighbour, ' but I have never learnt so much or wanted to stay somewhere so badly. But I came to Bognor and married my girlfriend and now we are expecting our first baby. "
" So are you glad you gave everything up to come here?" I asked.
He stared at the ceiling reflectively. " Well, we have a free flat and we are together and that is good," he said " But it is hard being a chef in Butlins. They don't like to use spices in their food."
And then there was the 82 year old.
" I'm going to buy myself some trousers tomorrow," she told me triumphantly. "I'm going to be 83 in December and I've never bought a pair of trousers. But tomorrow I'm going to. This weather is just too cold for my legs. Who'd have thought I'd ever buy trousers."
" Who will take you shopping to buy them? " I asked because she used two waking sticks, so trying on trousers wouldn't be easy.
" I'll ask my niece," she said, " I don't have any children of my own. Never married. Fell in love with a soldier when I was in the army. Head over heels I was. He didn't tell me he was married. Never got over my broken heart."
And her taxi arrived and she strode off bravely, leaning on her sticks.
I hope her first pair of trousers are worth the 82 year wait!
Upstairs Joss is singing tunelessly at the top of his voice, celebrating the fact that he only has a few more hospital visits left. I am happy for him. But I will miss my waiting room conversations.
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