I shouldn't really complain but ...

Yesterday was Mothering Sunday (aka Mother's Day), so son invited us over for tea and cake.  Which was lovely of him - and his wife, who made a wonderful coffee cake in the space of an hour.  But by the time we'd gone, been there and come back, it took about two hours.  And, in a rather fragemented weekend, that was time I was planning on writing.  But I more or less caught up, mostly by going to bed late, although I failed to write the blogpost I'd intended writing.  Such is life.

Anyway, he gave me a small rose bush, which we can plant in a pot in our garden once the weather is warmer, which was really nice.  And much better than a bunch of flowers which wouldn't last.  He also gave me a chocolate orange, which hasn't lasted, but gave much pleasure during its brief residence with us.

Daughter had sent a text in the morning, saying "no present, I'm at work", but she did phone in the evening.  Turns out that in the absence of a dedicated play specialist she'd taken it upon herself to find some paint and made mother's day cards by using painted hand prints of her patients (with parental permission of course).  So some happier patients at a worrying time for them.

I gave my own mother a heart-shaped keyring that had been made in the woodworkship where I work, but she didn't seem too impressed.  She doesn't do Mother's Day.  A shame really, because the keyrings were good quality and they sold quite a number to staff members.