Hello darling peeps. I think it's all turned out good with ED. She took several days to make any progress whatsoever, which scared the fucking bejaysus out of us all, then on Thursday she suddenly perked right up so they operated on Friday, after which she was even jollier, says SIL. At which point we all keeled over with relief. Who knew that I'd been holding my breath for so long - this started in August, ffs, and gradually crept to a place where we thought we had lost her, and hovered there for a few very, very long days.

People prayed for us - people across the world, some whose names I don't even know. We called her back to us and she came. I haven't been to see her yet and I'm not really sure when I will. I don't have a couple of hours motorway driving in me, nowhere near. This is a new kind of fatigue though - quite peaceful. Son came down today - he's seeing his counsellor down here on a weekly basis and I think he likes a bit of Mama-love as well, which is cool as I like a bit of son-love, that's fer sure.

I watched The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel on the telly this evening, bloody lovely film about a bunch of old people (played by the cream of Brit actors), who leave cold, grey England (some of them with little enthusiasm) for life in a ramshackle hotel in India. It's not a Great Film, but for a woman of sixty, it was both rare and delightful to see older women's lives at the centre of a story and to be bathed in the beautiful shapes, golden light and rich colours of this fictional India. It made me think I need to grasp the mettle of this next stage of my life - I've been adrift in the sea of recovery for too long now and it's not going to be the final chapter. There's more to come, but I have to create it and grab it, not expect it to come floating to me with no effort on my part.

I am grateful for: Prayers for my girl and her recovery; the NHS; a walk with Bloke on the prom in a wild wind; return of my kindle at last; making it through, all safe and sound.

xxx