Internal Memo

When you check your diary for the week, and it says the respiratory nurse is doing a home visit on Monday morning, do not go back to bed after dropping your daughter at school on Monday morning. If you do go back to bed, when the doorbell rings unexpectedly, do not throw everything into Little Fish's bedroom on your way to answer it. True; this will indeed give the impression of a marginally tidier house than might otherwise be the case. However, when the respiratory nurse has come to fit a humidity circuit thingy* to Little Fish's Nippy, she will in fact need to enter the bedroom. Stepping over the clothes, tent poles, physio mats., etc. is possible, but a tidier room (and emptier bed) would've made a better impression.

The humidifying thingy is very impressive though - lots of blue hose and dangly circuitry, water which mysteriously fills itself, and a new three tone alarmy blip. It didn't impress Little Fish; although the only bit visibly different for her was the switch from grey hose to blue, she was adamantly against it until she actually tried it. At which point she decided it was quite nice actually, and snuggled in to fall deeply asleep before I had switched the light off. And it doesn't run off a battery, so we could do with no power cuts forever more now please.

If anyone other than myself has read this far, please spare a thought for my friend here. Selina needs to come home to be with her family; she's spent far too long already in this institution.

Tia

*technical term