An interlude

Groombridge Place, June 2013

Christmas has come and gone, the New Year celebrations passed, and I have left one job behind and am looking forward to a different one. But in the meantime, it has been by turns restful and hectic.

I was working on the Monday and Tuesday before Christmas Day, and Mr A was in charge of preparations. He did a great job, and we had a delicious seafood medley for Christmas dinner, plenty of sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, watching DVDs, reading some books and even watching a couple of TV programmes. I was back at work on the Monday and Tuesday before New Years Day, but those were my last two days there. I had scheduled patients, but most of them didn't turn up. The most reliable were those with Gestational Diabetes, for obvious reasons. A year ago I enjoyed the predictability of the ante-natal clinic, but ended up tyrannised by the inexorable progress of pregnancy.

We had no plans for New Years Eve until the very last minute. I had anticipated quite a long and busy last day at work, but it wasn't like that at all. The Diabetes Specialist Nurses told me that sometimes it can be crazy busy, but for some reason this year there were few referrals, and we even had time to spend a break together in the hospital coffee shop. I cleared my computer, cleared my drawers, cleared my desk, cleared the room and managed to get away mid-afternoon.

Mr A suggested that we try and gatecrash the party at the Pub Next Door, by pulling rank as Very Important Neighbours. Their ticket-only party had been advertised for a while, but I had thought I would be too tired from the working and the driving, so we hadn't signed up. We found, however, that the party wasn't happening after all, and it was to be a fairly normal night at the pub, so there was no need to call in any favours, we could just go next door as normal customers.

Of course, Smurf couldn't let an opportunity pass for some sort of mischief, so he was dressed as Elvis, in a white shiny outfit and big wig that must have been awfully sweaty at the end of the night. He and the other bar staff were downing shots at a rate that made me wonder how they could still stand up by the end of the evening. Towards midnight they turned the music up and Mr A and I were first on the dancefloor, the traditional countdown to New Year took place, there was a bit more opportunity for dancing and then Mr A and I went home. We have managed to avoid the staid married couple story of 'can't be bothered to stay up until midnight' for several years now, in various interesting and enjoyable settings.

My new job starts in a couple of weeks, and I have Plans of all sorts for the intervening time. I started with planning a trip to London and another trip north, but mentioned to Mr A that it would be a perfect opportunity for a snow holiday. He took up the challenge with gusto.

Mr A has now admitted defeat with both the skiing and the snowboarding. His legs, both broken in his mid-20s, were poorly set and his feet and shins cannot be comfortably accommodated in ski or snowboard boots with any success, even in the boots that were ludicrously expensive because they were moulded to the shape of his legs. But always optimistic, he started looking into the possibility of renting a type of ski bike that we had seen on the slopes during our last snow holiday.

With less than a week's notice, we are now booked for a week in Austria. Since I have a day or two at leisure, I spent a couple of hours practising at our 'local' SnowDome, which was a very good idea indeed. I progressed from just about remembering how to snowplough right through to parallel turns in the space of two hours, which has made me a million times more confident, and means I'm looking forward to our holiday a great deal more.

So I will be absent from this blog for a while, but with any luck Lola II may fill the hiatus. She was planning a blog post a while ago, and she has been on holiday as well, so maybe she will surprise us!

No idea why this is in one of the hospital corridors - the caption is 'Negev'