The Six Million Dollar Man!!!

Our truck could be terminal!

Our truck could be terminal!

C – It never rains but it pours – one vehicle in the garage, possibly terminal, George has been in hospital to have his tonsils removed and now mother-in-law is unwell. Must dust off the Florance Nightingale outfit once again.

Toby returned form another busy day sailing and asked with that cheery tone “where is the family”? I replied Pheobe in her bedroom asleep after the usual non-sleeping sleepover teenagers insist on putting parents through as often as they possibly can. George has not been seen since Friday evening regardless of the recovery period necessary post tonsillectomy, and the fact that he has a fully functional mobile (paid for by the bank of Mum and Dad). His phone never seems to stop buzzing, vibrating and dinging every hour of the day and night. However, he does not seem able to take a few moments out of his busy life to let his mother know that he is not dead in a ditch.

He clearly thinks he is the Six Million Dollar Man and can recover from major surgery with immediate effect. Okay now I am showing my age. I hear myself complaining loudly to husband about the lack of communication from his son. (Toby has taken up his usual position in front of the TV clutching the remote control as if his life depended upon not allowing another mortal access to it). In response he utters those inimitable words that send the hairs on the back of my neck into the vertical position; “No news is good news”.

Things pretty much as usual in my household this evening, then.

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