Waiting for Mother

It's 3.07pm and my Snow Elf and I are waiting for mother. My mother, her grandmother, see? Rather, I am waiting, SE is emptying a box of paperclips onto the floor and eating them. I have stopped caring about what she puts in her mouth. What doesn't kill her etc etc. "It's good for her immune system!" I bark, when friends see her casing the kitchen floor hoovering up yesterday's sandwiches. (Not sure I can use that excuse for the paper clips.)

I am nervous aboutrMother's arrival for the following reasons (here we go, another list:)
- she is deaf
- she doesn't have a mobile phone (see above)
- she doesn't speak much French
- when she sent a parcel of knitting here (no telly, remember, she'll be panicking) the address said "Lucerne" not "Lausanne." I really hope she is not on a train to Lucerne.

Hmm. *fidget, fidget, fidget*.

In other news: threw up in the supermarket today. In a bag (good), sitting on the floor in front of the fruit and veg (bad.) No one asked if I was ok, even though there were spectators. What's the world coming to? I would have asked if I were ok...is that just because I'm an egotist?

My Snow Elf has found the scissors now. Even I have boundaries. A tout.