First week back - great!

Well, our first week back has been great - the weather has been superb, which has meant there has been no great shock to the system. (I've played 5 games of golf in the last week - each one of them in shorts and warm sunshine). I've also not really had any jetlag - I awake sometimes at odd hours, but otherwise it's been fine - maybe it is easier travelling Business Class!

Jo hasn't been near her computer so her blog is now 3 weeks out of date. I think she's waiting for Ross to fix her computer so she can get her photos on and update her blog from there. Talking of Ross, he should be heading back from Italy soon. He didn't quite keep his promise to his Mum to phone when he got to his destination, although he did phone from Dijon in France on Friday - apparently they only had 400 or so miles to go then.

Since my last post, I had a really hectic Thursday - dashing north to Fraserburgh for 3 management meetings in the morning, then heading south to Glasgow for a late afternoon meeting. I had a quick bite at Foveran on the way down - I hadn't been there in years, but Ross got me to stop there the last time we were down in Manchester, and it's pretty good now.

I met up with Barry and Helen in Wetherspoon's Crystal Palace and we had a curry. They were dashing off to a concert (Jack Bruce) and I then went to see Dad. It was about 7:30 pm when I got there and, guess what? - he was tucked up in bed:

He was, as you can see, half awake, but he soon came round and we tried chatting for a while, but this, as usual, proved difficult, so it was on to singing, and then we put some of his CD's on - some Glenn Miller, then Patsy Cline, and, finally, Glen Campbell. He seemed to enjoy this - especially the country music of Patsy Cline - we hummed along and sang where we could pick up the words. The care assistants came in during this to give him his pills - he took one, but then refused - I don't think he liked the girl - she was East European and very pleasant - she tried hard, but I sensed Dad was uncomfortable and eventually she left, saying she would try again later. I left about 9 pm and Dad seemed happy and settled.

On Friday, I drove from Barry's to Gleneagles - it was a wonderful day, and what a marvellous place it is when the weather's like this. On the drive home, Barry phoned me to relay the sad news that George Rogers had just phoned to say that Aunt Helen had died. She was younger than Dad, but had had a number of health problems in recent years, so it was probably no surprise.

So my Dad is the last of that generation of Stewarts to survive. Brother Johnny died a long time ago - perhaps the 1970's? - then came Alex, then Willie a few years ago, and now Helen. When you look at this list of names, and how "normal" they are, how on earth did he end up with the moniker Swanson Renshaw? Answers on a postcard please.

Tomorrow night, I'm out for dinner at the Marcliffe with a couple of visiting Norwegians. I guess I should have told Jo earlier - she's had to freeze the spag bog originally planned for Monday's tea.