Post 352: Old Mother Hen and some Volvo kindness.
With the care and loving attention of a rare-breed hen, I gathered my chocolate eggs onto the kitchen worktop — partly for safety, partly for display — but mostly because I was proud of them.
And grateful.
My Darling had gone off to work, happy with her new bracelets — something to wear, to show, to quietly lift her spirits but not at work.
She wouldn’t be back until 3:20pm, so I had the house to myself… though the dishes from last night were waiting patiently for me downstairs.
Or so I thought.
When I got downstairs, they were already done.
That familiar wave of embarrassment washed over me as I stood there, slightly useless, eating my bowl of granola of uncertain heritage.
It lingered a bit longer than I’d have liked.
Then — a text.
An offer of a neighbourly “drive-by” visit at 2pm.
A complete shift in mood.
Of course, I don’t make those decisions solo — not really. We’re a team here at chateaux Twiglets, whether I admit it or not. So I checked in with the boss at work, got the nod, and sent back an enthusiastic yes.
They (the visitors) were nearby, refereeing a football match — “nearby” in their terms anyway — but close enough to pop in, which was very kind in itself.
That gave me just enough time to have a little tidy. Kitchen, conservatory and a token effort in the garden. Then I got washed, shaved — presentable, at least.
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I first met these friends — I’ve mentioned a few times before in the blog — through the Volvo Amazon rallies since Covid, and I’m genuinely glad we did. Proper people. The kind you don’t meet often enough.
Knowledgeable, generous, and easy to be around.
I was passing the time with a bit of K-drama, Mr Vicious snoozing on his chair, when the front door opened.
Unexpected.
It was my Darling — back early — whispering that our visitors had arrived.
I shot outside as quickly as my penguin legs would allow.
And just like that, the afternoon began.
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After the usual greetings, I was handed a beautiful reed basket — inside, a perfect little nest of chocolate eggs, shining in the sunlight, with two tiny chicks perched proudly amongst them.
A gift that was thoughtful in every detail.
We settled in the kitchen. My Darling, still in full host mode despite needing a rest, got the hot cross buns going in the air fryer while I made the tea.
The tea… well.
Let’s just say the milk situation was questionable. Evidence later found in the bottom of the mugs suggested I’d not quite nailed it. I don’t make white tea often — and it shows.
Excuses, excuses.
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Before long, my Darling slipped away upstairs for a well-earned nap, leaving the three of us chatting away.
Cats. Football refereeing. Chocolate eggs. Life.
Time moves quickly with people like that.
Far too quickly.
Before I knew it, they were heading off — but not before one more act of kindness that caught me off guard.
The offer to help with my beloved Volvo Amazon.
Driving it, moving and parking it — all the things that are becoming harder for me to do.
It was said so casually, so generously… and it landed.
I held it together while they were here. Just.
But later, when my Darling asked what we’d been talking about, I barely got two words out before it caught up with me.
I paused watery eyed. Composed myself. Carried on, mentioning a bit of Volvo kindness.
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Before the visitors left, I made sure to crack open the ostrich egg and share a bit of the monumental egg case with them. I even reused their lovely basket to send them home with a few treats.
A small return for a very big kindness.
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The evening was a little quieter.
We watched the final, film-style episode of Peaky Blinders, turning the volume up just enough to let the music fill the room.
And there it was — Red Right Hand by Nick Cave.
I’ve got the album. I always come back to it. There’s something in his music — something deep, something knowing.
No spoilers here but we enjoyed the drama.
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I’ve not said much about the aches and pains today.
But the truth is, the oramorph is doing a lot of the talking now — four or five doses a day. That probably tells its own story.
We’ll see what Thursday brings.
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Life is still moving forward at a pace, though.
Plans to visit our youngest and his fiancee after the meeting Thursday, are now set. We can see the progress on their place. To spend time with Byron again — something to look forward to.
The bed situation inches along too. Options still circling — single, twin, something in between. Nothing settled yet, but we’re getting there.
Step by step.
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I don’t feel ill.
That’s the strange thing.
But I can feel the change. The quiet sapping of strength, day by day.
My Darling sees it more clearly than I do. I can tell by the way she looks at me.
I just keep saying I’m fine.
Because, in many ways, I still am.
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And so I look ahead.
Maybe another break. Somewhere simple — north Kent, perhaps. Estuary air, a bit of space, somewhere set up properly so I can just… be me, be us.
We’ll see what the week brings.
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For now, I’ll take it steady.
There are eggs to get through, after all.
No rush.
Good luck
