We’ve had some fine weather recently; so on Saturday I decided to prune the roses while Dot painted Amy’s room – or her study, to give it its alternative name. Obviously I had the easier task, but Dot enjoys a challenge. Both jobs were completed satisfactorily – and in the case of the painting, just in time, because on Monday Dot fell over and sliced her finger open on a broken milk bottle she had been carrying.
There was a great deal of blood, and after some debate on where was the best place to go I took her to Boots on Riverside, where the first aid person bandaged her up and said she had to go to the walk-in centre, because she would need stitches. Fortunately this was nearby, on Rouen Road, and they dealt with her surprisingly promptly. A male nurse cleaned it all out very carefully, gave her some anaesthetic (she was in quite a lot of pain) and under my watchful eye put in a number of stitches – at least six, possibly more.
Again, there was a lot of blood, but it eventually disappeared under bandages. She now has to be careful with it for a week, when the stitches can come out. Being an active sort of person, she finds this difficult. She has other cuts on her hand and knee, and various bruises.
On Sunday we had a joint service at St Luke’s, at which Dot and I accompanied the worship with Steve. This was followed by a talk by the Archdeacon (soon to be Bishop) and some other guy on homosexual relationships, all of which was less than convincing, and a bit patronising, to be honest.
In the evening Dot and I went to the Seagull and I read five of my Lent poems (I am just about managing one a day). Quite a goodly company, but an awful lot of people are repeating material, which is a bit disappointing since it’s called “New Words….” Nice to see Ian, who is the third person we know well who has had a hip replacement this year.
On Monday we had a PCC meeting. Dot decided not to go because of the pain she was in. Actually the cocodamol was controlling it OK, but going to a PCC meeting would undoubtedly have made it worse. These things are normally painful through their sheer tedium, but the current vicar delights in details of procedure and multiple action points. Howard was over the moon at the end because he wouldn’t have to go any more.
Yesterday Harriet called in on her way to Morrison’s, and she fetched us a pint of milk to replace the one Dot had broken. (I had forgotten it on a trip to the supermarket the day before, after the accident, after realising initially that we would need it. Ho hum.) Later in the day Anna called round for a chat, discussing possible ways the future might pan out at St Augustine’s. She then left to pick up Anandi from the station, and we had our hair cut by Linda.