My finger is still not fixed. It's still strapped up. And even though I change the strapping daily my fingers stink. Sorry – but that's the way it is. No amount of soap or handcream takes away the ingrained sweaty stench. I didn't realise that fingers could sweat.
On a brighter note, I've now dictated five chapters of my dad's first book. In fact I've probably dictated double that–if you count the number of times I've had to undo, overtype and correct the iMac's translation of my Altrincham accent. The chapter I dictated last night introduced my grandad, Donald (GonGon), his love of the sea and how he met my grandma, Deborah (Ninny).
My own memories of my grandad are quite sketchy - I've summed up a few below:
Today, for some reason, I googled caravans (quick subject change so I don't relive that trauma!!). And looked at how much they cost.
I have no idea why. Maybe I have a yearning to be one of those irritating types on the inside lane of the M6 motorway. But I just thought I would throw that in here.
Today was also the day that I switched from winter to spring wardrobe. However this year I've been a little bit smarter - I have kept some warmer spring items out i.e. winter jumpers. Every year I switch my wardrobe during a lovely warm, sunny start to spring - which is then followed by a windy, rainy, dreary and cold few weeks.
GonGon and Ninny - looking well posh.