Oh if ever there were two Britishisms that encompass the spirit of almost all of my British friends and family it’s those two phrases: “Pull Your Socks Up” and “Get On With Things.”
We’ve both struggled since the events of Sunday morning but today there was no choice. AP was scheduled for minor surgery and so we arrived at the hospital bright and early this morning, with a little suitcase and a few books.
The patient waited calmly to be taken into the operating theatre:
And he pulled his socks up…
He’s fine. The operation went well and he’s happily resting at home in front of the television and this is a relief to us both.
One of the funny little habits that Pickles had was to stand up and insist on going outside for a pee exactly at the climax of a movie that we were watching on TV. We often laughed about it and felt that she had some kind of sensor which told her when it would be most irritating to interrupt us.
So in the early evening, just at the climax of the film we were watching, the phone rang and it was our vet. He wanted to express his sympathy and to tell us that we can collect her ashes whenever we feel ready.
We had to laugh.