Then I took the kids out to the garden to show them how to feed and care for our new chickens, Charley, Maisie, Florence and Charlotte. Maisie had prolapsed all her egg making equipment with her first egg, not something the vet could fix, so she went on a one way trip to the vet. Where she behaved impeccably, letting them stroke her and fuss her while they slipped the needle in. Even the vet cried, that was one tame chicken.
|Maisie is on the left, next to Florence, the white one.|
Anyway, then the joy that is mammography. They have a mobile X-ray unit at Tesco's car park in Ilfracombe, and apart from the inevitable embarrassment of being half naked, and the incredible 'discomfort' of having your boobs pressed between two plates until they are about 3mm thick, then you have to hang about for a letter with the results.
I also hate packing. Hate it. When Leonie was little, we were in and out of hospital, sometimes with a toddler and a newborn, often at very short notice, like after a hospital appointment or in the middle of the night. So I packed all the time. Empty my 'ready' bag, pack a new one, as soon as we got home. We had to go back within the same day, several times, often blue-lighted in by ambulance. So packing is a dismal task and I always forget something. Being sleep deprived doesn't help. Being on tablets which are stated to have a high risk of depression as a side effect just makes it worse. I am not a happy camper. Spare a kind thought for the poor bugger who has to drive me for eight hours tomorrow.