Helen House is about ten miles from here, a twenty minute drive. Today on leaving though, we had a trek to the farthest outposts of the county for a ROSY morning, then lunch with friends before coming home. So the decision by the hospice staff to feed Mog extra Movicol late last night really was a touch diabolical.
Mind you, I have no one other than myself to blame for the widdle puddle which appeared under Little Fish's high chair at lunchtime*.
And now we are home. I have photos, but the cable is elsewhere. I have stories and anecdotes and wild witticisms. And no energy - yes I know I've just had a really restful four days, but right at this precise moment in time "you can have no more respite until after May 1st" is shouting louder than "you have just slept well for four whole nights in a row".
Tomorrow the balance will be restored.
*I blame myself for not changing Little Fish before this happened, I was not the widdler. I was however the one who spilt the Diet Coke, leaving a much larger puddle beside the smaller, drippier widdle puddle.