And so we've ended up on the outskirts of Tamworth and are staying in a real house. We're with our friends, Paul, M and twelve year old Josh, Louis' oldest friend. Paul, his dad had a stroke last summer but is making great guns now. His speech has come on a treat and he's back to driving and at work. Ever the therapist even off duty, I noticed that he can be a bit lop sided in task performance, using his left arm instead of his poorly right one. He says that his mates are on to it and are nagging him too.
I've known these people for the long haul. They count among my nearest and dearest. We've been together through some brilliant times and supported each other when life has been tougher. In our twenties we partied, as you do. Now entertainment is more sedate and our younger selves would have be scathing. We made inroads into Josh's Christmas jigsaw and filled a big gap in Louis' cinematic knowledge by watching ET together. M and I cried when he went back to the spaceship. The boys scheme together, eat chocolate and play fight. Paul cooked us a curry and was really chuffed that he chopped an onion independently for the first time. Having been incapacitated myself a couple of times over the last few years, I know the meaning of achieving small milestones.
This morning I'm going to have my first bath in three months. It makes me sound like a dirty minx but I'm not. Personal hygiene hasn't suffered by living in the motorhome. It's just that the arrangements are much more basic. The luxury of internal plumbing is much appreciated. Then after breakfast we're taking the boys out to have a Nerf gun war before we scurry home back down the motorway. It's a lovely weekend doing normal stuff with friends. Six months back we didn't know that this would be possible ever again.