Contrasts

Sometimes the contrasts in life are almost too much for the brain to comprehend.

On Friday there was my sister in law's funeral.  All our grown up children came from all over the country as well as my mother from Devon and friends from all over the place.

On Saturday we drove for three and a half hours to Oxford for my one year old grandson's first birthday party.  There was a cake in the shape of a dinosaur made by my daughters, and biscuits and balloons and a lovely low key happiness.  Ian drove back to visit his father in the evening.  I stayed overnight to chat in the evening and play with the baby in the morning while his parents had a rare lie in.  He snuggled into my chest and put his thumb in his mouth as he began to get tired.  His blond hair curled against the green jumper I was wearing over my pyjamas.

Today I took a train to Manchester and was picked up and visited a livelier father in law, living much more in today rather than tellling stories of his war years in the Orkneys as he has been doing since his fall.  We drove  home in separate cars.  Here the snow still lies crisp and the cat is delighted, in so far as a cat can be, at the return of human company.

Tomorrow the car needs to go in for service.  I have work to do.  I need to bake.  Life is complicated and simple at the same time.