Now that Mr B is home from hospital we are searching for what I like to call our “new normal.”
will not simply slip seamlessly back into the Way Things Used To Be. There’s a large hospital bed taking pride of place in the living room for starters - we prefer to style it the “Not-a-Hospital Hospital Bed” to differentiate it from the
one in which Mr B spent twelve wearisome nights on the ward until he was released, sorry, discharged, on Monday - not to mention the ambiturn which I have named Turner, after the artist, don’t you know? I thought this would introduce a touch of culture
into our world; the alternative being Twister which is, as everyone knows, a game involving physical contortions and so the exact opposite to requirements.
B’s brother, Mr H (they are, as regular readers know, like peas in a pod) has rearranged our garage in order to accommodate our two seater settee which has been displaced by the Not-A-Hospital Hospital Bed. Any fears I might have that I wouldn’t
be able to find a single thing in the garage after Mr Space Man had been at it, were completely unfounded: Mr H’s attention to detail is exemplary.
everything required when the younger grandchildren come to visit - the toy box, the picnic table and chairs, the jungle tent - are all within sight and, even more importantly, reach. Just inside the door sits the car battery charger, together with a useful
extension lead and a garden spade - all the easier to find them in a panic. This is the “new normal” in my garage and long may it last.
we settled down to watch Paddington 2. I had purchased the DVD from the garage a whole week ago and somehow restrained myself from watching it until Mr B was home and could watch it with me. To be honest, Mr B didn’t seem all that bothered which is,
shall I say, normal, as opposed to the “new normal.” He also managed to fall asleep half-way through which was fortunate in that I was able to weep happily through the closing scenes without attracting ridicule. So far, so very normal.
I had to telephone the members of our Nomination Whist Group to (I) announce Mr B’s return home; and (ii) apologise for cancelling yet another session, Mr B not being
quite up to the challenges of the card table as yet. Delia passed on my message to three other members of our group who happened to be gathered at hers for a cribbage session - I could hear them cheering at the other end of the phone. Ann phoned me later to
offer her help with operating the ambiturn any time I needed it - she used to work in a care home, she reminded me, so was well-versed in Turner’s eccentricities. So good to know that Help is at Hand when facing the challenges of the “new normal.”
Sooner or later, life will settle down. Turner will become part of the family. Mr B will grow accustomed to sleeping in the Not-The-Hospital Hospital Bed. The Nomination
Whist Group will resume, hopefully in time for an Easter celebration. I will carry on, as always, Doing It With Joy.
And the “new normal” will become,
well, the normal…