My Aunt & I in 1963 and at her 90th birthday party last August
This was written a few days ago, but all being well, as you read these words I should be speeding my way back up the M11 towards home after spending a few days in London with my Aunt Joyce. She lives alone, celebrated her 90th birthday last year and required some minor outpatient surgery yesterday. Her daughter, my cousin, lives in New York, so I went down to transport Joyce to and from the hospital, then make sure she was as comfortable as possible before zipping back to East Anglia and to work. In four days I start a week's holiday and I'll be heading back down to London in order to check in on the patient, who, knowing her, will be a very impatient patient. By then I imagine she'll be desperate to get out of the house for a wander along the High Street, a bus ride to Romford, or a shopping trip to Chelmsford. She's had a few knocks over the years, but doesn't like to sit still for long. Hopefully though, she won't overdo it and will hang on until I arrive back in town next week, when I can whisk her off for a pub lunch at her favourite spot.