June 13th
Our sheltered, seaside enclave has been invaded by all relevant members of the G7 summit and its accoutrements.
We're awash with world leaders, reporters, special forces, and six thousand additional police... all coming down here, eating our pasties, bastards.
Many of the locals are moaning about one thing or another in connection with the G7 fallout, so they're happy, it's what some people do best.
Personally, looking out of the window and witnessing a convoy of massive, super cool, black cars (not very woke, I know), and their cavalcade, all lights blazing, is rather fun.
It was Biden, apparently, returning to Carbis Bay after luncheoning at The Queens Hotel on the prom (not with the actual Queen or a hotel belonging to her).
All very hush, hush, I was told, by those in the know (which seemed to be everyone).
Anyway, all of that pales into insignificance in compression to events within my own family this week.
I'm someone who tends, generally, to fear the worst, and I haven't felt that it was right to even mention that my eight-year-old nephew needed a serious heart operation.
Although cancelled twice already, this week the operation took place and this beautiful, lovely, funny, wonderful boy is now recovering after surgery and recovering really well.
When I walked up to my mother's house yesterday, I realised that a massive black cloud had been hanging over all of us, especially my brother and his wife, and now it has passed over.
I felt lighter, happier, hopeful again.
A little girl from my nephews class had had a similar operation a couple of years ago and, tragically, died. So, the fear was very real, and my heart goes out to that family when I think of the excruciating mental torture losing their daughter will have left them with.
I looked after my baby niece, six months old, for a few days and nights just before and during the operation.
Extreme babysitting, yes, but somehow, I shall treasure that slightly surreal bubble we both lived in for the duration.
Did it take you down memory lane? Asked my mum and sisters.
Yes, it did.
Would I want to go back down that lane if I could?
No, I've done my time... or have I!
Nappy changing has been off my daily agenda for many years, but feeding time and clearing up the mess still seem to feature.
I returned to a series of mini-mishaps and a certain degree of mayhem.
I'd expected more really, not mayhem, more order, some proof that these grown men could actually function, on the domestic front, without me.
Still, I've calmed down now. The divorce papers have been put on hold, promises have been made and order restored.
Oh, and here's a link to what my baby niece and I have been listening to during our spell together.
OK, and now I never want to hear that EVER again!
I forced myself to write on the train journey up, but I haven't, as yet, read what has been written, and I suspect that it's rubbish. I've never written anything good on a train.
UPDATE: I've read the few hundred words I wrote on the train and, yes, they're all rubbish.
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