We
heard from the father of the bride last night.
Peter spoke a few words with me before asking to be handed over to
Elsa. He said what I had heard in his
voice - he was exhausted, depleted. Could he come over and unwind and camp on the den sofa? Of course!
Many
years ago, my mother, who was ill, came to live with us. Pete and I worried about how the children
would handle it. I can still see Ian,
who was about six, looking up at us and telling us that a visit would be good
for Gran because "This is a house to get better in." So is Squirrel Haven.
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