Miraculous Recoveries, More Books & the Tree Man

S went to bed last night with a stinking headcold and woke in a foul mood this morning. After much contemplation I agreed that she could have a day in bed. I phoned at 9.45 to see if she was coping. (R was at home but asleep as he'd worked until late last night and needed to catch up). "Yes, I'm fine thanks," she replied. "Well, you're obviously downstairs and not in bed," said I. "Yup, and I've made out my birthday and Christmas present lists too," she said, obviously forgetting who she was talking to and that she was supposed to be in a state of near collapse. Guess who'll be back at school first thing tomorrow?

Whilst in London last week we visited the National Gallery. I could have happily wandered from room to room for days and thought how lucky the small gatherings of children that were there with teachers were, to be able to go on such a fabulous outing. Mind you, I probably would have rather gone to a petting zoo when I was ten years old. I bought a book about Klimt. It's only a small one but filled with glorious paintings.

I also bought this book (not from the National Gallery. I don't know the author but I think it's going to be a good read. She's also written two other novels that also look interesting.

I've just received a phone call from the tree man. He seems very nice and sounds like an over excited puppy, but unfortunately he'll be coming tomorrow to cut down the leaning fir tree, and my poor cherry tree that's half dead with some sort of honeyfungus disease - gulp, sob. They're the biggest trees in my garden and have obviously been here years. I'll hate coming home from work tomorrow and seeing two large gaps where they once stood. R is rather philosophical and said that at least we'll have enough logs for the winter. You know, sometimes we really see things quite differently.