Suddenly I’ve gone from ‘single woman/one Govan cat’ household to three daughters, son-in-law and three cats, one of whom is Demis Roussos in fur; all this in a two bedroom flat. It’s like Little Women on disco biscuits, only Laurie lives with us and I don’t come home to my slippers warming by the fire.
Now when I make my bed, I’m brushing out fur and claws instead of (indulge me a little here) Jo Malone scented petals or stray lovers. Music wise we’ve discovered that Frank Sinatra generates the required air of calm of authority.
I’ve no TV so ‘family time’ is all about sitting round the kitchen table melded to our respective laptops. Seems like only yesterday we used to read the Twinkle together and make play dough.
Maybe we’re going back to the clan system and the Inverness cousins will move in too, and come winter we can bring a cow into the kitchen for bovine central heating and black pudding on tap.
It’s only temporary but I’m loving it as I get a second chance at playing ‘Marmee March’.