Right on cue, the email arrived from the hospital confirming our appointment for this time next week, so at least we have a date after which our next set of decisions can be made. There’s a bit of movement and some feeling returning to her toes now too, although the colour of them is so completely at odds with those of the other foot that we wonder if they haven’t gone to their spare parts bin and sewn on the first foot they found rather than trying to repair the original.
If we could see around the corner that is next Wednesday, we’d know what the exact combination of wind and tide would be, and chart our way home, the stars would align themselves and we’d be able to put our travel arrangements into some sort of sensible order and cancel bookings for the next couple of months.
But we can’t.
Thinking too much about what may or may not be the outcome of next week cannot change what will happen, but our minds keep returning to that forbidden garden.
Thankfully, Dave and Ria arrived in port today and even it we had tried it would have been difficult to hear ourselves think over the din of our reunion. By the time Ron and Robin had returned from their meanderings, Dave was waving his pannenlikker like a magic wand, casting a spell as only he can over a few simple ingredients to create a monstrously splendid party meal.
Perhaps it’s the magic of being round so many great friends at the one time that makes it work so well, more likely it’s the years of schooling and experience and talent that enable him to produce anything from anything.
Actually, when we think about it was our pannenlikker not his, and it doesn’t quite work the same when one of us wields it no matter how many people are aboard!
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