Gee but it's great to be back home

I’m so glad I was able to get down to the Deep South and visit my mum, especially for Mothering Sunday. The only real problem on the M25 was the roadworks around Heathrow, where there was a 40mph speed limit, and almost no traffic (yes, really, even today!), which made crawling along with all that open road ahead unbelievably tedious and frustrating. The surface around the junction with the M23 was slightly off-putting because they’d been very enthusiastic with the salt, leaving the road entirely white. Unfortunately this had the side-effect of making the lane markings completely invisible.

It was a great relief to me that I was with her when the vet phoned to say that Tim’s ashes were ready for collection. Her sister, who’s not a ‘pet’ person, would have thrown a wobbly at the very thought, and refused to have such a thing in her car, so mum would have had to get a taxi to bring him home. But I’ve been to collect dogs’ ashes in the past (we still have Bella and Polly in their caskets on a shelf because we haven’t yet decided what to do with them) and I know how upsetting it is. We were able to have a hug and a little weep together, which I think helped Mother. So many people scorn you for mourning what they see as ‘only an animal’, which is incredibly hurtful. Some are even so callous as to say that ‘you can always get another one’, which is unspeakably unkind. Anyway, Tim’s home again, and Mother knows there’s no rush for her to decide what to do with the ashes. I’ve agreed with her that if she dies before she’s decided, then I’ll put them in her box with her, although I’d have to be discreet because the vicar might get arsy.

But it's good to be back home again.