Can I draw breath now, please?

Oof. If I say that I am actually, really, truly looking forward to being on a plane tomorrow, it might perhaps give a clue. Sometimes life is a tiny bit too exciting - oh, nothing mega-dramatic, but all the same.....

Where to start? Well. For all of this year, I have been a bit constrained about some of the things that I might have wanted to write about in this 'ere blog. That may (only may, though!) go some way towards explaining why I haven't popped up quite as often as I would have liked.

The truth of the matter is that the DSM has been off sick from work ever since Christmas, apart from a few days in the summer when he attempted a phased return. No need to panic - let's put it this way, it was his psyche that was playing up rather than any vital body part. In other words, stress and anxiety. We don't really know why - does one ever? (Well, yes, obviously sometimes, and I don't mean to be flippant.)

At the time of the attempted return, he had the ghastly news that the office was relocating back to Lytham, increasing his drive time to around an hour and a half each way. After a few days of denial, telling me that it would all be fine, whilst I felt sick as a dog, we quietly acknowledged that it wouldn't - but what to do. Voluntary redundancy reared its head. We then had a lengthy period of time not knowing what was going on - would they, wouldn't they - and twice, they didn't. And some time during that process, I quietly pointed out that, actually, we could cope just fine if he never went back to work.

There was a bit more shilly-shallying, and I still felt that I couldn't actually say publicly that he had "retired"; but suddenly, voluntary redundancy was back on the table, and I really felt that this time.......and they did.

So, on Tuesday - which was our wedding anniversary - we had a day out to return a lap top, and collect a few personal belongings; for him to say goodbye to co-workers; and for a rather sweet little ceremony of speeches and a card and a gift. And that's it. Oh, officially he is on the books until the end of the month. But it is all over. Now he gets to do the art, and the spinning and the weaving and the teaching that he has not had time to do alongside a demanding day job. So it is all good. Strange, and will take some adjusting to, but good.

To prove we were there, a couple of seaside pictures. We had a lovely celebratory lunch after the office visit, and then a walk along the prom.







(I loved these two - not such ugly ducklings, eh?)

Then there was the drama with my mother. My mother the uber-drama queen. She had reported a health problem that had caused me some concern, and had promised to phone on Monday. I wasn't too concerned when she didn't, but then my sister rang mid-evening on Monday to say - as I thought - that my mother was "in hospital". We had little idea why. I started having emergency thoughts about cancelling holidays and so on. So anyway I phoned her Care Home the next morning, and was told in no uncertain terms that she was actually in her room. Oh. I ring her number. I had got the wrong impression from my sister, but I know how it happened, and don't need to go there now. The lady had indeed been taken to the hospital, but I have absolutely no idea why, other than it being a problem with her vision. She has to go back for treatment - I don't know what, or what for. Blood tests have been taken - again, no clue. I did eventually, in a slightly raised tone say that it really would be a most excellent idea if questions were asked. Sigh.

I seem to remember that Hilaire Belloc wrote a tale.........

Yesterday, I had my own visit to the Eye Clinic, but only for a check and all was well. Yippee! Plus, the nice consultant had a test done to measure the thickness of the front of my eyeballs, and apparently the fact that they are thicker than normal may well mean that I do not after all have high pressure in them, which would be good. She has ordered a couple more tests just to check things out. I have been under the impression for years that I could be at risk of glaucoma, but apparently this may not be the case. A nice surprise.

Today, my hair turned, in parts at least, bright red with the shock of it all.

Golly. I have maundered on and on and on about all of this. I apologise! I have, however, a small FO, to return the subject to fibre work.

Before:



And after, felting:



As you will notice, I have treated myself to a Kindle, largely for travelling. Covers are an outrageous price, so I crocheted and felted one from some Polwarth S-spun singles that I just happened to have to hand. Not a great work of art, but functional, I hope.

And that's it for now. Possibly foolishly, I'm off to Coven tonight. You can never see fibre friends too often.

Have fun, kiddies, I intend too.......