The dreaded chest infection has returned.&. I’ve coughed myself stupid for over a week and I am exhausted. Husband is also exhausted listening to me and being kept awake at night. So I’m for a chest x-Ray tomorrow. The form for the x-Ray says that I have a wheeze on the right side which reminded me of the birth of my first daughter. I know that seems a bit strange but bear with me. We chose the name Louise for a number of reasons one of which was that it was unlikely to be shortened or otherwise changed. It seems to be an English habit to shorten it to Lou; it’s not something that happens much in Ireland. So it was a bit of of a surprise when my father started to call her Louisiana and sometimes referred to her as Wheezie. Everyone else called her Louise until she went to England where some people call her Lou.

No colour red this season.

I suit certain colours.  I know this from a lifetime of experience and also people have complain me when I’m wearing a particular colour.  I do black well and it tends to be my staple colour in winter.   I don’t suit green or yellow.  My aversion to green probably has a lot to do with my school uniform from almost fifty years ago.  It consisted of a bottle green gym frock, lighter green blouse and green cardi.  With my sallow skin I always felt that I looked a bit green about the gills and yellow has a similar effect.  I can do all shades of blue and white if I’ve been in the sun, but my best colour, well it’s red.  Real red, pillar box red, strong red, worn with black in the winter and navy or white in the summer.  Not coral, especially not coral,  nor chilli, nor fuchsia, nor brick, nor orange.  Is it too much to expect the high street to have red t-shirts on sale in April, nearly May??

If yesterday’s shopping trip is any indication then clearly it is an ask too far.  Not one in sight – I lie.  There was one size 16 red t-shirt in Next but it had a stain on the front.  I could have wept.  So I only managed to buy a navy one.

Nanny Plum

Granny finally made it out of the house today after a truly awful chest infection.  Last year it was pneumonia and a week in hospital where granny was the youngest granny on the ward and about the only one who was mobile.  So naturally it seemed the sensible thing to get the flu jab and the pneumonia jab last autumn.  Imagine my surprise when the GP said that this chest infection could easily turn into pneumonia and there was me thinking that the jab would keep me safe for years.  Also why do doctors not believe that I don’t smoke??? OK, I tried to smoke at uni, but I was no good at it.  I suppose it’s the rasping cough and the deep husky voice, never mind the crackling in my lungs, but honestly it’s not my fault.

But anyway as granny and grandad listened to the car radio on my big day out, there was an ad for Barclays bank, ( Classic fm – can’t stand Jeremy Vine so always switch over) and both of us proclaimed in unison,

“That’s Nanny Plum !”

We’re definitely top notch grandparents or very sad people.  We love Ben & Holly’ s Little Kingdom, especially Nanny Plum.

Dead spider

Dirt devils, fluff fairies, grease goblins, they’re all living and procreating in my house and they’re the ones that I can see.  God knows what else is lurking in the nooks and crannies that haven’t felt the wrath of the pointy bit on the Hoover for quite a while.  You know those balls of tumble weed that roll down the streets of ghost towns in Western movies, well I encountered something similar upstairs, only they comprised a lilac coloured fluff from the frayed ends of the valance.  And then to put the tin hat on all these cleaning challenges a loud four year old voice announced,

“Granny, you’ve got a web”

“A what!!” I replied.

“You know the thing that spiders make.  Look it’s behind the toy box but there’s no spider”

Well that stands to reason.  The spider probably made that web quite a while ago and has since secured one of those help to buy mortgages which the Tories tell us will solve all the problems in the housing market and said spider has moved up the web ladder.               Alas the four year old voice made another pronouncement.

“Granny.  There’s a spider in the bath.  Come and see it.”

And yes there was, albeit a very small one.

“Can I touch it?”

“Yes, but don’t squash it”

And so she gently touched it and what do you think as she later told granddad- it was dead.