We are living the dream this week. I have spent pleasant hours here at the hospice with Vicky knitting, writing her cards for her, talking, making cups of tea and ordering cheesy chips, and delicious sweet creamy puddings from the kitchen. I can never imagine this simple life changing, but I suppose it will, one day.
When I get home my 23-year-old son normally cooks. Enormous vats of stews and soups and pasta and rice which we all guzzle gratefully. Last night I did my samba drumming with lots of bouncy younguns, and this morning I had a quick dip in the sea with the Kemp Town Kippers, although they stayed in for ages and I leapt out, shrieking with cold after seconds.
Josie
Meanwhile, up in my bed at the hospice, I love having visitors smelling of fresh air and telling me of their exploits. I also love going over old times together especially when I was warden of the Meeting House in Winchester. It is wonderful to know the Ditchling Quakers now. Although I am totally immobile, I am enjoying all the care and support from the nurses. We talk about our lives and my early nursing training at St Thomas's Hospital as they wash my back. I am dictating this to Josie as I can't seem to hold the pen.
Vicky
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