Well, that was interesting.
I had hoped to have some free time during this three-day sojourn in Flatland. I envisaged diffidently suggesting that we might see if some of our friends in the area would be at home at any point, maybe calling them and mooting a flying visitation. Ha, as they say, ha.
Yesterday, we took the DC to her doctor for a check-up. This turned into a trip to Wisbech hospital for an urgent blood test (waiting time thirty to forty-five minutes), followed by (since it was now lunchtime) a truly excellent lunch at the Corner Cafe in Blackfriars Road (a better all day breakfast than you'll ever find at Little Chef for about half the price; this is a kind of eatery I thought had vanished from the face of the earth and we will be going back) and a poddle around various shops. It was only when we got back to the Travelodge (where we were staying at a cost of £££ because the guest room on the DC's estate was having its electricals fixed, apparently) that we realised that Jan had lost a purse.
There wasn't much £ in it, all in all, but it also had her National Insurance number card in it and we don't like losing things anyway, so this morning I went back to Wisbech while the Countess slept in and retraced our steps shop by shop, coming up a dismal blank and getting lost in an interminerable maze of housing estates after an abortive attempt to call in at the police station (no parking). I'll be ringing them tomorrow, but I gather Wisbech is the crime capital of the UK so we're not too hopeful. Then we spent a merry three hours arranging for various appointments for the DC, including an epic runaround involving Social Services and Age Concern and involving at least three referrals to numbers which were pure timewasting. And then it was half past three and time to drive home.
I think we did good. And there were enjoyable moments. But it was an expensive old trip, one way and another, and rather more stressful than I can cope with on my current quota of spoons.
I had hoped to have some free time during this three-day sojourn in Flatland. I envisaged diffidently suggesting that we might see if some of our friends in the area would be at home at any point, maybe calling them and mooting a flying visitation. Ha, as they say, ha.
Yesterday, we took the DC to her doctor for a check-up. This turned into a trip to Wisbech hospital for an urgent blood test (waiting time thirty to forty-five minutes), followed by (since it was now lunchtime) a truly excellent lunch at the Corner Cafe in Blackfriars Road (a better all day breakfast than you'll ever find at Little Chef for about half the price; this is a kind of eatery I thought had vanished from the face of the earth and we will be going back) and a poddle around various shops. It was only when we got back to the Travelodge (where we were staying at a cost of £££ because the guest room on the DC's estate was having its electricals fixed, apparently) that we realised that Jan had lost a purse.
There wasn't much £ in it, all in all, but it also had her National Insurance number card in it and we don't like losing things anyway, so this morning I went back to Wisbech while the Countess slept in and retraced our steps shop by shop, coming up a dismal blank and getting lost in an interminerable maze of housing estates after an abortive attempt to call in at the police station (no parking). I'll be ringing them tomorrow, but I gather Wisbech is the crime capital of the UK so we're not too hopeful. Then we spent a merry three hours arranging for various appointments for the DC, including an epic runaround involving Social Services and Age Concern and involving at least three referrals to numbers which were pure timewasting. And then it was half past three and time to drive home.
I think we did good. And there were enjoyable moments. But it was an expensive old trip, one way and another, and rather more stressful than I can cope with on my current quota of spoons.