Mother's Day
7 March

Before relating the incidents of Mother's Day, there a few things that I need to catch up on.

It's now over a year since I returned to work after six weeks' sick leave through depression. It's also more than six months since Mercia left the Project I work on throwing us into all sorts of disruption.

I'm very proud that I've more than survived all of that. I flourished in most aspects of my home and work life. I could do with a bit more of my old libido; I should like a little more focus in certain aspects of my living; I should like to be more outgoing when it comes to family and friends; I should like to be a bit more organised in some of my planning arrangements. But most of those are just to do with me working at being me. Elsewhere, I am remarkably centred and strong.

At work, this was shown recently when we acquired City and Guilds centre and scheme status for accrediting the work that we do with our customers. This was mostly down to me and the work that I have done reconstructing the training programme. And it brings us back to where we were when Mercia left but in a stronger and more efficient position.

Also I have to report that Jemima has been back to the vet's and has had her stitches out and her collar taken off and, as of last weekend, is now venturing out into the back garden unsupervised. Unsupervised by humans that is. Nutkin was well on hand to make sure that she came to no harm.

I've also had a trip out to the Lowry with Roland and Colin to see Opera North's production of Kurt Weill's One Touch of Venus.

Critics had raved over this show but I was not so impressed. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood. I could appreciate the invention of the production and the hard work that cast and orchestra were putting in. I just wasn't engaged. For me then, it was a disappointing two stars.

Saturday I went to the chiropodist. For a while, I've had a sharp, jabbing pain at the side of my left big toenail. I'd assumed that I was getting an ingrowing toenail. So, I called in and, as luck or maybe providence had it, the chiropodist had some spare time there and then to fit me in, diagnosed a small corn under the nail and sorted me out with instant benefit and relief. If only I was so immediately proactive in other areas of my life, I should probably see the same effects elsewhere as well.

Because I hadn't expected to by seen at once, I didn't have the readies on me. No problem, this is Crosby and people trust each other. I went to the shops, got some money out of the back and called back with it.

It was a similar story later at the newsagent's. I called in to buy things and left Ross's Guardian behind. When I called back later, there was not question. Oh, just take another. Again, it's Crosby and I'm a regular customer and there's trust.

In fact, it's this newsagent from which I get my series of opera DVDs. The most recent has been the English National Opera production of Purcell's The Fairy Queen which I saw in London in 1998. Maybe my tastes in music have changed; maybe the revival really wasn't as good as the original. However, I enjoyed seeing this at home much more than I did in the theatre.

So, to Mother's Day itself. My parents were down in Epsom with Linda, so I rang them early. I knew that something was wrong when Grace began her greeting by telling me that it was a lovely day and she was sitting there surrounded by cards. So, I asked if mine had arrived and she said no. So, I explained that it was on its way. And we agreed that it is the thought that counts.

Ross's parents arrived later in the day and we took them out to the Ship Inn at Haskayne for lunch. Well, lunch doesn't do justice to the meal. We were eating for over two hours and fairly waddled away from the table having pigged out on everything possible.

Come the evening, Ross and I were in no state to do anything except slump in front of the TV and watch Hero. Having raved about House of Flying Daggers, Hero is also very good but, for me, doesn't rise quite to the same sublime heights. The stunning use of colour and balletic dance/fighting are equally magic. I think that Flying Daggers has the more engrossing and engaging plot and characters. Nevertheless, it deserves a good three stars

Over the weekend, we also viewed Saw (which was going in the right direction as an effective horror movie but blew the ending in big style and so ended up only being worth two stars ) and Shark's Tale (which despite boasting major, major talents like De Niro, Scorsese and Will Smith was a complete disappointment a only worth a single star ). Hero was so good by comparison.