Verity phoned from Spain this morning. “Max has had enough of trying to explain where it hurts in Spanish, or more likely sign language, so we’re coming home.”
“That’s good,” I said, more on automatic pilot that anything.
“I’m glad you think so. He’s driving me nuts. I’m going to have to get a nurse to come in and see to him, because I certainly can’t change dressings or anything.”
That was certainly true. If ever I was ill, Verity would advise paracetamol over the phone and keep away until the danger of practical intervention had passed.
“We’re not flying, it’s going to be an assortment of trains, but we should be back by Saturday. Can you put a note out for the milkman and get some bread and stuff for me?”
That was Verity. But I have missed her and her energy, so it will good to have her back. Doubtless the lack of flights is as much to do with baggage limits as with Max’s health, but personally I would quite like a slow train journey back. But then I’ve always liked the idea of a long train journey, like the Orient Express, though without the murder.
Ronnie’s reaction when I told her that Verity would be back and that Max was okay but would need some nursing was quite a surprise.
“I’ll head back up home, then.”
“I found it hard enough coping with her when we were out at spas or shopping all day. If she’s stuck at home looking after Max, she’ll be unbearable. I’ll be better off at home. I’ve got friends who’ll help me.”
I tried to point out that there were people in the village who would help her, myself to start with, and the over-60s club, too, though she hadn’t really taken advantage of that yet. But she was adamant.
“I’ll get a train up on Saturday afternoon. That way, I can say hello to Verity and still get back in time for the weekend Bingo extravaganza. It’s a silly game really, but I like the company.”
I could see that I wasn’t going to change her mind so conceded defeat gracefully; I offered her a Chinese take-away for lunch. It’s a short drive because unfortunately they don’t deliver; the pizza people and the curry people all seem to, but sadly not the Chinese. Still, the food’s good and the prices very reasonable. Ronnie tucked in with a really healthy appetite and I did briefly wonder if I should have sanctioned so much salt.Verity also complained when she phoned about some of the detail in this blog. “I don’t want to know all the boring things you do!” she said. So I won’t bother mentioning that the rest of the day was taken up getting up to date with the washing.