Whiling away the time all day yesterday waiting for a parcel to be delivered, by the time that K arrived home from Day Care the courier had still not arrived. I announced to K that we would have to forgo our usual trip to Sainsbury’s for our Tuesday food supply stock up. She wasn’t going to be deterred so easily however.
“Why can’t you go down on your own, and I’ll sign for the parcel?” I have to add at this point in the tale that I am not well. Sore throat. Feeling lousy. Doesn’t matter though, food stocks must be replenished despite the fact that we have plenty to eat in the freezer and kitchen cupboards. I vainly attempted to stand firm citing my ill health.
At 4.30 pm precisely the door bell rang. It was the courier delivering our parcel. No sooner had I put pen to couriers sheet and signed it, than I was unceremoniously bundled out the door, purse in hand and shopping bag slung across my shoulders before I could catch my breath. It’s amazing how she can shift herself (and me) when its in aid of a ‘K’s favourite subject’ cause, i.e food. Dashing down to town, spluttering and coughing as I went, I vowed not to forget this unfeeling and unkind treatment.
By the time we had whizzed around Sainsbury’s and made our way to the bus station, I felt like death. Luckily for once, as if some kind guardian angel knew how lousy I was feeling, we hadn’t just missed a bus as usually occurs, and we only had a few minutes to wait. As soon as we landed back home I donned my jamas, drank some Beecham’s and hot lemon, and spent the rest of the evening catching my breath and recovering. Who says my daughter can’t move fast when she wants to? She can when its for a good cause!