subterfuge

My sister and I communicate every day.  We talk over the phone, text, email, face time, whatever...

Today was no different.  We exchanged a few texts as usual and agreed to face time at 6pm.

Anyway, I had my usual hospital day: awake at 6am (it's the drugs), watched a DVD, breakfast, wash, dress, out of bed and into chair, eat, physiotherapy, slowly die from effects of physiotherapy, try to read, fail, look at internet; I could go on but the excitement would probably kill you instantly.

Text from sister.  Usual rambling chat about this that and the other including the weather and one of our favourite topics - the merits of ice cream in Swansea and in particular the raging debate as to which is best: Joe's or Cresci's (it's Cresci's by the way).  Joe's is very close to the hospital though so I said to Corinne that when they visit before their return to Florida later this month that they bring me a very, very large Joe's caramel sundae.  

Agreed.

I can't remember the exact time I needed to use the commode (sorry - but I felt the need to put this detail in) but being interrupted while doing so is an absolute no-no and when someone said "can anyone come in" I replied "absolutely bloody not".  I mean - I was having a personal moment.

Looking up to see who had the nerve to interrupt this instant in my life I saw my sister's face staring back at me.  

She and Johnny had travelled down from Kent that afternoon on a mission that the British Secret Service would have been proud of in the second world war.

And do you know what the first thing I said to Corinne was?

"Where's my ice cream?"