flirts a lot with that thin line between awesome and awful. She's sixty later this week, and a constant delight but I don't know if it's possible to better her efforts today. She read a text this morning, in a rush, and without putting her glasses on; and was devastated to learn of a close bereavement. Of course she told us all, and the machine swung into action: postponements, bookings, emails, phone calls, seemingly inexorable, until, by a small series of awakenings and realisations darling Mother came to the knowledge that all was not quite right. She checked the text again.
The person was "in God's hands". Not "in God's arms". In other words, still with us.
Oops.
Can't wait till she's eighty. The possibilities for SNAFU are endless.
No comments:
Post a Comment