Actually I'm afraid I don't think I have any left. After yet another gruelling 13 hour day at work my mother called, literally as I was walking out the door, wanting to talk to me for over an hour about my father's headstone and eventual stonesetting. She knows exactly what she wants, but she wants me to get the rabbi's approval. She also doesn't want to invite anyone to the stonesetting ceremony itself. And guess who will undoubtedly have the delight of delivering this particular concrete casserole to my father's circle?
Oh - and then there's going through dad's clothes, a heartbreaking chore that she understandably doesn't want to do on her own. In addition there's much concern about my grandmother, a wonderful 80-something who has developed a rather alarming habit of falling over a lot. So this morning I rang her to check in and arrange to see her.
My sister, for her own good reasons, appears to be dealing with the situation by avoiding the UK altogether. She will literally be spending four days here in six months. Which is great for her but less so for me who, on the other hand, cannot go beyond the M25 without feeling the most overwhelming sense of guilt and the tug of an ancient umbilical cord. She emailed me last night to tell me that she has acquired rather a large phonebill. Predictably this is related to MC, who has been using her mobile while she's out of the country. I am too tired to deal with this but of course, I'm going to have to.
My soul is exhausted.
UPDATE: after I wrote this I went to the loos to get myself together. When I got there I found a white feather on my jumper, which was definitely not there before. I don't usually believe all that business about white feathers being the calling cards of angels, but just for today, I think I will. I want to.
UPDATE 2: the phonebill was nothing to do with MC after all. I should really have more faith in the boy, shouldn't I?