It comes in threes

So, what have we been up to?

Well, Mother has been keeping us busy.  She's a bit down and needs constant reassurance at the mo.  So, we are on red alert for the clicking of fingers, if you see what I mean?

We are telephoned.  Can we come down IMMEDIATELY.  She has received a letter and she doesn't understand the contents.

We are a little busy, I tells her. but we'll come down in a bit.  

Big, 'I'll make you feel guilty for not coming NOW" sigh at the other end and an "OK'.

A few hours later, we begin our toddle down to her place.  Bearing in mind that I am in pain with all this arthriticky stuff but I bravely set off on this epic journey of up hill and dale type. wearing my trusty Ugg-like booties.  My feet are too fat and swollen to wear nice, flat summer shoes, so winter boots it is.

I have trouble walking downhill.  Uphill is not so bad, but it's the downhill bit that gets my goat as I have to bend my knees...a la skiing downhill position.  I should imagine it looks quite strange to passing motorists who probably think I have done something in my pants!!

So. downhill we go.  I am bad-tempered, having to go out, yet again on a probably uncalled for visit and mutter away as I wobble down the ski slope type road.  There are lots of those little annoying pebbles everywhere that always manage to get into my boots.  Arghhhh.....I stand on some and I feel the pain through the slipper like soles of my pretend Ugg booties.  

Junior thinks it's hilarious.  Ha, blummin child...just you wait until you get to my age, I am thinking.  You've got my genes, poor little sod!!

She's miles ahead, twittering away happily.  Meanwhile, old mother bear here is chuntering, doing her "I've pooped my pants" walk.  So much so that I didn't see the HUGE bloody roadside sign and managed to nearly knock myself out when I collided with it!!  

Junior turns around, wondering what the loud  twang was and sees me clutching head and swearing profusely.  "Bastard sign!!!!  Who put that there?"  says injured moi.  Do I get sympathy?  Noooooo.   All I can hear is my child giggling away at her poor old mother's predicament.

Anyway, once the twittering birdies have left my throbbing head I soldier on.  Junior has now decided that it is safer if she 'escorts' me up the remainder of the hill and carries on twittering as I hobble.  One hour later, we are on the home straight....nearly there when I hears this loud twang followed by a loud "ohhh.....ow!!".  

Guess who's managed to walk into a road sign?  Yes!!  There is Junior, clutching head!

I asks how on earth did she manage to walk into that?  

She doesn't know.  She was singing a song in her head and was so in the groove that she didn't see the obstacle.  That's the Pussycat Dolls for you, then!!!  Was my turn to titter.  Hah, child!!   Should have hummed to The Stones:O)  lol

We, the walking wounded. eventually got to Mother's.  And, believe it or not, we got a taxi home!!  Mother insisted.