Skype skype hooray!

Christmas day was warm (in the extreme, Iain's wood burning stove could warm a drafty castle with some left for the heavens,) delicious, (leg of wild boar much recommended) and family-full. Skype brought the Cambridge people into the living room so we saw Sandy in his Santa outfit, Costa downing his first dram of the day, Fin quaffing orange juice and Theo holding his head up (almost.) I'm definately getting a camera for this iMac.

The extra pleasure this year was the addition of new family members in the persons of Iain's parents who are very kindly folk, and I'm sure his father, who was a branch manager for the Bank of Scotland when I was running up overdrafts there, is much too much of a gentleman to remember me from those days! He says he stopped enjoying it when he no longer had the authority to authorise loans by visiting the builder or farmer or whoever to see if it looked as if they knew what they where doing. Now-a-days its all ticks on a check list and off to head Office with the application. I'll bet he got a few drams offered along the route in those pre-nanny state days.

The downside was that Iain is still in pain and standing almost at a right angle. Chloë not only has Sandy to be concerned about but a partner who is getting more and more depressed because he can't work. As he is a partner in a small forestry company that depends on him being able to wield a chain saw and climb trees this situation isn't good. The verdict on his back seems to be a prolapsed disc which could mend itself in time or need surgery. Either way chain saws and shinning up trees don't look like activities he should be undertaking in the future. He is getting VERY fed up with doing the accounts and watching day-time TV. Understandably.

On a lighter note, when I started to rise from a chair last week I got stuck half-way at about the same angle Iain has been forced to adopt for the last four weeks. I, unlike the poor lad, wasn't in pain, as long as I didn't try to straighten, so I found myself dissolving into unhelpful fits of laughter at the thought of Chloe walking down the High Street with one of us on each arm wearing a T-shirt advertising her osteopathic services. It was cured by kneeling down on my way to try lying flat, so if anyone sees me curtsying in the street they should understand I am just putting my back - er - back.

The shop is open at the moment but I'm not sure how long that's going to last. I have a need to hibernate, not have to talk to anyone... I think I might shut the doors again in a minute..