Getting lost and getting scanned....

We have had quite a busy weekend.


First - No 2 son got lost. He had a harrowing time. He and his Bear Grylls buddy said they wanted to go for a long walk. They in fact wanted to walk to school (?) but we said that was quite out of the question. Far too far. And uphill most of the way. Wrote out a pirate web of a map, for a walk that should have taken them along the bridleway, in a bit of a loop, and home. "Turn right at every opportunity". Obviously they ignored that advice, and ended up in Castle Bytham, accidentally walking 5 miles (or 4.9 but who is being picky?). I SAID he had been gone too long. They got a lift home from the lady in the old Mrs B sweetie shop. Poor son & friend. Clearly quite scared. And of course son's ankles killing him. They had to have a calming bowl of cereal. It is one thing to watch and want to be Bear Grylls, another thing to have to consider foraging for supper in Castle Bytham. I note they went straight to the sweetie shop.

Also, number one daughter lost her caxton card in Laos. Again. How is this possible?? She left the last one in the ATM machine, (which totally wasn't her fault because they give you the money before they give you the card back. If that makes sense). Following a series of cloning crises in Brazil,she went off to the Big Moon party in Thailand armed with not one, not two, but SIX cash cards, and is currently down to four. A touch of frantic card cancelling as we were trying to eat hurried pre hospital visit lunch....


The biggest news of the day/weekend was the MRI scan. Finally, we might find out what is wrong with The Ankles... He was booked for a 2 hour slot from 1.20. TWO HOURS? I didn't think it would be possible for him to lie still for so long, alone, in what feels like a space ship, but which bangs and clanks like a victorian tardis. The hospital, which is fabulously brand new and shiny, was weirdly deserted in the diagnostic bit. No one there. No one to sign in with. We sat for half an hour, totally alone in a huge waiting area, with the lights flickering sporadically. But then a lovely red haired nurse came out and we were ushered through. She asked him whether he had ever had any metal bits in him? Any bullets? Any shrapnel? Shards of metal in his eye? Tattoos? (She told us prison tattoos are the worst for MRI machines, they use ground up paperclips instead of iron filings to make the black colour. Nice). 
He answered slightly nervously, double checking with me about the metal implant question. Then he had to put on gigantic pyjamas trousers and a back to front dress. I took a photo of him on his I-touch, we both thought he looked quite funny. 
Another nurse came to escort him to the machine. He said he needed to just double check a couple of things. Then he asked all the shrapnel, bullet, implant, tattoo questions again, and I think by now son was thinking he must have got one of them wrong, and so he kept looking at me, making sure I agreed. Then he went in, all by himself. So brave.
Hour and a half later (so he did obviously lie still), out he came, smiling, and now we are home. 

The sun is shining. Daughter 2 is riding Splash around in the school. The laundry from the weekend change over is drying in gale force winds. Uniform next up....
Oh joy. School tomorrow.


Cottage news - near horizontal rain again, (which probably means it has been raining from the beam in the downstairs bedroom in Piper again, but lets not go there now).