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Old 3 Aug 17, 10:52 PM  
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And When Did You Last See Your Father? - Tiny Fencer Update

We are a family of three - me (April), DH (R.C.) and DS (Poot - who turned 10 on this holiday!). We visited Orlando and Sanibel Island, travelling from Gatwick on BA.



DH has his own business and could only join us for part of the holiday (hence the title of this trippie!). He’s not really a theme park sort of chap, but he enjoys it down on the Gulf Coast.
For our week on Sanibel we were joined by my DM (Judybat) and her husband (Hans).




Trippie Index Here


For those of you who have dipped in and out of the trippie and are wondering WHAT THE HECK this post has to do with Florida...


...it has nothing to do with Florida. Go read Anji’s fascinating trip report instead.


https://www.thedibb.co.uk/forums/sho... php?t=1032091


I promise, it’s fascinating! She and her DH visited so many places I’d never heard of - but now can’t wait to see...


Still here?


All right, then. Skip down to the next post if you don't want the recap first.


PREVIOUSLY...in “And When Did You Last See Your Father?”...


Back in April, I posted this:



...if I sound snarky about R.C. in this post, I don’t mean to. But I might, because he is in my doghouse this week!

Some of you may know (from my posts outside the Florida Trip Reports forum) that R.C. has a fair bit of extended family in France. Well, this week one of his cousins asked him for a (nebulous at first) favour - and at the end of it all R.C. somehow agreed to let the nine year old son of one of his cousin’s friends stay with us for six weeks this summer - before said boy starts boarding school (somewhere near London) in the autumn...

...and in return Poot is to go to spend the summer in Paris. With total strangers (this boy’s parents). At age 10.

R.C.: Well, I wasn’t quite sure what I was agreeing to at first (um...DUH!) but I’m certain It will be fine, the father’s an avocat (barrister).

Me: WHAT?

R.C.: And I’m sure the boy will be no trouble. Here’s a photo of him with his fencing medal!

Me: FENCING MEDAL?! WHAT?

R.C: Well it’s done, now - I’m sure it will be easier than you think.

Me: Easy for YOU, you mean! You WORK every hour God sends! All of this is going to fall on ME! We live in the country! We have ONE neighbour - there are NO kids around us! What am I supposed to do alone with somebody else’s NINE YEAR OLD for six weeks?!

R.C.: You’ll just have to take him out, I suppose.

Me: OUT? I’ll take YOU out, donkey-face. Out as in OUT COLD!


As you can see, I took advantage of this opportunity to exercise my self-control...


It FIGURES that this would all start with R.C.’s cousin. She is my extended family



and from the very beginning has made it abundantly clear that she thinks I am not good enough for R.C.

The first time we met she positively dripped (faux) concern - “It’s a good thing you don’t live in Paris - you’d have to think a great deal more about your weight.”


You know when time slows down, and all the possible replies you could make run through your head...like maybe...

“It’s a good thing you don’t live in England - you’d have to think a great deal more about your cattiness.”

OR, the one I REALLY wanted to say…

“And yet I (Fatty McFattypants) am the one who’s happily married - while YOU (Chanel on a coat hanger) are TWICE DIVORCED. Funny, that.”

But I restrained myself and went with Old Faithful: “Ah, Cousine X, such a shame you went into art history. You’re clearly such a loss to the diplomatic fraternity.”


What can I say, she’s never forgiven me for saying the French have “delusions of relevance”.*

*I LOVE the French, but we all know it’s true...

But seriously - this poor kid - what is he meant to do stuck out here in the country with no-one for company but me? We have NO family here. There’s only us. And there really are no kids nearby. And how am I going to get ANY work done?

And even if Poot stays here instead of jetting off to live with M. & Mme. Avocat - at that time he’s meant to be spending several hours a day with his schoolwork - because we are taking HIS holiday later in the year! So this kid is supposed to do WHAT while Poot is busy with his studies?

My good angel says this is a chance to practice radical hospitality. What does my bad angel say? That’s right...



Oh, I’m just so...I could spit nails! And I’d like to take R.C.’s cousin and...

Ooh - and R.C. finished it all off by saying, “People sent their children off to live with strangers DURING THE WAR!”


Does anybody else have the rule that if someone brings up the Nazis they immediately lose the argument?

No? Just me then?

Do I just sound like the worst wife and mother ever?


And a week later I had THIS to say - after receiving a BOATLOAD of support from fellow Dibbers:

OODLES of thanks to you ad hoc marriage counselors who took the time to share your opinions, feelings and support over the last few days. You have stiffened my spine!


So...when we meet Tiny Fencer and his mother in London I will propose that BOTH boys are with us for the two weeks before TF starts boarding school (provided R.C. agrees to take the first week off work).


Poot is ten, and he is NOT going to France to stay with strangers - so if it’s all or nothing - then it’s nothing. And Cousine X can bite me.


In mid-May we did meet TF and his mother... and here’s what happened:



We had lunch with TF and his mother on Sunday. She was slim and gorgeous and very, very Parisian.


He was adorable.

OK, not THAT adorable - but you know what I mean.

And he spoke very little English. His English needs WAY more than “polishing”. How he will manage to take CLASSES here, I can’t imagine…

TF’s mother and I thought it would be a good idea for the adults to speak only in English at lunch (and HER English is perfect) - but after a few sentences it became obvious that poor TF couldn’t follow what I was saying AT ALL. And I'm talking about things like, “What sports do you play?” not “Do you accept string theory even though as yet it seems to be only verifiable mathematically?”

ANYWAY -

The two boys rubbed along well enough ≈- they talked about Harry Potter (in French) for a goodly while.

Poot: Tu es dans quelle Maison?

TF: Gryffindor!

Poot: Moi, aussi!



As expected, R.C. made it very clear that he thought that the “six week swap” was a GREAT idea. But I figured he would, so I was ready. And I said, “Forgive my plain speaking, but I want to be clear. I am happy to have (TF) come to stay with us for TWO weeks - provided my husband takes that first week off work. But I would never send my ten year old child away to stay with strangers in a foreign country. Not for six weeks. Not for two weeks. Never in a million years.”

Slim, Gorgeous Parisienne: Ah, yes - well - I am happy that you are willing to take TF, at least.

Me: And how does TF feel about the possibility of staying with strangers?

SGP: He must do what I decide - and I have decided that this is best.

Me: I would have been terrified to go and live in a foreign country when I was nine.

SGP: Yes. It will be hard for two weeks, but then fine.

R.C. : I’m certain you’re right.

Me: Hmm…

As some of you who have taken the time to comment on the previous page of this report know, the awkward part of lunch then concluded with SGP telling me that she would talk to her husband about what to do next and then call...R.C. (Call R.C.? And not me? QUELLE SURPRISE!).


SGP: "TF may not have even liked you, or Poot."

Me: You won't hurt my feelings - even a little - if you tell us that was the case.


So fingers crossed he hated us all.

Seriously, though - aside from the fact that we have VERY different ideas about parenting - I liked SGP. She was witty and engaging and intelligent. And TF was a credit to her.


Feeble as it may sound, your support really made a difference to me. It was MUCH easier to be “the bad guy” knowing that ALL you other mothers (and one father!) out there didn’t think I was being overprotective and helicopter-y. Maybe best of all though - after I talked to The Queen about all this - HANS (ol’ Luminous Balls himself) reached out to me to say, “I would NEVER let my (similarly-aged) granddaughter go to stay with strangers in a foreign country. What is R.C. thinking?”

My hope is that when TF goes for his interview at the boarding school (that will have happened by the time you read this) they’ll determine that his English isn’t up to scratch. The Queen tells me not to hold my breath - “You think they’re going to turn away paying customers?”

There WAS one funny thing - I booked our awkward lunch at Wahaca (because it’s LOUD, and I was a little worried about the possibility of raised voices ) - and the lads shared a dessert:


It’s a “cricket brownie” - made with gluten-free flour. What kind of GF flour? Ground cricket flour. That’s right...

...so at the very least, TF can tell his chums back in Paris that in London we EAT BUGS.

I took a snap and emailed it to SGP, so he’ll even have proof.

So...TF situation (I did type “problem” - but obviously a child isn’t a PROBLEM) half solved. From this point on I think the worst thing will be waiting for the inevitable phone call from Cousine X!

EDIT: Have HAD said phone call. That was no fun! Nothing like hearing (from a woman with no kids) that I’m an “old-fashioned sort of mother”.


Thanks to duchy and princess allie for agreeing with me about that being a compliment.


By the end of May, TF’s mother had reached out to R.C. - and she (after pushing for “just another fortnight” when she had R.C. alone on the telephone) was willing to go along with my two-week plan.

HOWEVER, Poot and I will be abroad for the two weeks before TF starts boarding school (I still can’t believe they’re going to accept him with so little English, but - as Goldia pointed out - money speaks louder than children do).


We eventually settled on the last week of July and the first week of August for his visit. Plenty of time to get things ready (or so I thought).


But then, in the weeks before he arrived...all this happened...
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Old 3 Aug 17, 11:04 PM  
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OH April, I'm hanging now. What went down? X
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Old 3 Aug 17, 11:08 PM  
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Waiting to hear... 😣
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Old 3 Aug 17, 11:25 PM  
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Originally Posted by ILoveDaveLamb View Post
OH April, I'm hanging now. What went down? X
Originally Posted by Minnie Mum View Post
Waiting to hear... 😣
Thanks, ladies - next post coming up right now. I'm just inserting the photos!
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Old 3 Aug 17, 11:25 PM  
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This post contains medical bits - feel free to skip it if you don’t like needles. I would have skipped it if I could have!


The first week in June, I developed a terrible headache. And I don’t get headaches - so I figured it was just a virus...and it would go away.

But it didn’t go away. And the first Sunday in June, over the course of the evening - I lost the feeling in my face - and then my feet. Uh-oh.

So Monday morning, R.C. drove me to the GP. But because of my symptoms (“Those are neurological symptoms!”) - they refused to see me at the GP - and instead sent me straight to A&E.

But our local A&E closed about five years ago - so we had to make the long slog up the A1 to Stevenage…



...where it RAPIDLY became clear that I hadn’t been taking whatever was happening to me seriously enough...because my brain was being scanned within 30 minutes of our arrival at the hospital. Oops.

What did they think was wrong? Well, the doctor - who I swear looked like THIS -



said, “From your symptoms, we think it’s most likely to be a bleed in your brain. But it could be lots of things.”

So. That was just super news.

ANYWAY...while we waited for the results of my brain scan, Poot took some snaps of the grammatical errors around A&E...




Him: “Look, Mother - that whole department’s just for one adult!”

Me: Moan…

Now the only other time I “experienced” A&E at the Lister, the waiting area was full of cops - and the belligerent drunks they had arrested - but who needed to get stitches before they could be taken to the police station.

So despite the fact that I was now *rather* worried, couldn’t feel my own face AND felt like a tiny but very angry man with a mace had taken up residence in my skull - it was still a better few hours in A&E than the last time I’d been there.

Stay classy, Stevenage.


Eventually Doogie Howser came back with my test results. They were (probably) clear!


Dr. Doogie: At this point we can be about 95% sure that it’s not a bleed. Go home and come back on Thursday if you’re not better.

Me: OK?



I had to go back on Thursday. Because by that point, unless I was lying flat on my back with my head on an ice pack - I was in agony. And I was falling over whenever I tried to walk without help.

What? It’s hard to walk when you can’t feel your feet? Who knew?

So on Thursday back I went to Stevenage, while my wonderful, wonderful neighbour looked after Poot.

I saw a different Doogie that day - and after a couple hours of this and that - he decided I should have a spinal tap to “rule that bleed out for certain.”

So I sat there all day, watching daytime television (for no-one agreed with me that QUIET was better) and waiting to be summoned. And - WOW! Daytime television is CRAP!



But I am going to try and work “leftover lolly” into my vocabulary. If only I had lolly left over more often, eh?

After fifty programmes about antiques and some truly cringeworthy quiz shows - I was called by the doctor - only to be told that there wouldn’t be time to do the test that night.


Doogie: “Come back tomorrow at noon.”

Me: “OK?”



I took advantage of my neighbour’s good nature AGAIN the next day and after an hour or so of waiting in the acute medical unit they finally took me back for the tap.


Now I knew spinal taps hurt - but I was unprepared for just how MUCH they hurt. And, apparently, I have a “gristly” spinal cord - so it took three different doctors - and SIX attempts before they could get a big enough sample to run the test.

The successful medico (let’s call him “Doctor Tap” - he was actually old enough to have a BEARD!) was lovely, though. And in the end I was VERY glad they’d gone to find him to deal with my “problematic spinal cord”, considering what was to happen over the next few days...

I was a TOTAL wreck by the time he got the sample and I REALLY wanted to go home - but he wouldn’t let me leave.

Doctor Tap: Because you have so many holes in your back now, I want you to lie here - on your back - for three or four hours.

So there I lay - with six holes in my back - for three hours...



...but I did have time to read a WHOLE Star Trek novel…



...AND Dibb with collybird and Goldia...so swings and roundabouts, I suppose.


And by the way...many thanks to Goldia and collybird for keeping the Friday conversation alive over in the General Trip Reports forum with my Boston/D.C. report. We’ve lately been joined by the lovely Sparksy72 - I’m very grateful to you all (and the popper-inners - Hello, Gill!) for distracting me over the last few weeks.


Eventually Doctor Tap let me go home - he told me was on duty all weekend and would call me with the results. I was to spend the next 24 hours lying on my back and drinking caffeinated beverages.

I joke that Poot is easier than a dog - but it’s true (Praise the Lord!) - and he looked after me so well that weekend (R.C. was - of course - working).

On Sunday morning, Doctor Tap called.

And?

The sample had somehow been contaminated at the lab (up at Addenbrooke’s).

WHAT?! Did I have to go through all that AGAIN?


Doctor Tap: I don’t think that would be a good idea. I want you to come in for some other tests instead.


So BACK to Stevenage. Our neighbour stopped us on our way past his house - to give us some post that had been wrongly delivered to him the previous day.


NOW...those of you who’ve been with us since Day 8 (Animal Kingdom & Poot Falls in Love ) may remember that I have a peculiar accent. And obviously SOMEONE at the hospital had NOTICED that I was not English...because the post was a letter from the NHS demanding written proof that I was entitled to medical treatment in this country. And where am I READING this letter? ON MY WAY to hospital - to which I have to return because of an NHS c*ck-up.

Oh, how I laughed.




Me: You have GOT to be KIDDING ME! They can't look after my sample - but they're efficient enough to get THIS THING OUT in two days?

R.C.: Well, you know it’s a real problem…

Me: I SWEAR if you are LOGICAL right now - I will punch you in the face. FIFTEEN YEARS HERE! Hard-working TAXPAYER, rant, rant, rant...




The acute medical unit was quiet on a Sunday; Poot amused himself taking more photos of grammatical errors…






...but finally they did the tests - gave the results to Doctor Tap - and he sent me home. Free of brain bleeds - but with the instructions to go and see a private neurologist as soon as possible.

Because R.C. has always insisted that we pay for private insurance - yet another reason why I drive a seventeen year old car.


SO...over the next few weeks...back and forth I went to the private hospital; they found a mass in my back next to my spinal cord. And well, what with this test and that test - it was very difficult for me to concentrate on getting myself/the house/the plans ready for TF.

Of course I was keeping The Queen updated, and she (per usual) - did not hesitate to share her opinion with me…

“You’re still going to be hosting that FRENCH BOY? Don’t you have enough on your plate right now? Call that woman right now and EXPLAIN!”

But I didn’t. If I’m to be 100% frank (and you know I am ) - what I wanted was for R.C. to say to me, “Of course we can’t be thinking of houseguests right now. I’ll sort that all out so you don’t have to think about it.”

Instead, though - he expected me to behave like HE WOULD…

Him: Well, just don’t think about it until you have to. Think about something else instead. And we did make a promise.

Me: But! But! But!


Sigh.

Maybe lots of people out there are like that - keep busy with as much as possible so you don’t dwell on what MIGHT be wrong, but I’m not. Honestly, I would have rather just retreated into my house until we got the final test results.

I know, I know...suck it up, Chuckles.


And then ALSO before TF came, we also had to go up to the Embassy to renew Poot’s passport...

Those of you who have been to the Embassy in London since it became an armed camp will understand this prospect filled us all with joy.



Five years ago, R.C. was stopped at the gates for trying to bring his CAR KEY inside - and had to pay for “temporary key storage” at a pharmacy down the street...



This time we took The Tank to the station - since it’s too old to have a computerised key...only for R.C. to be stopped at the metal detector again. Poot and I had already gone through - and I turned around to see the Embassy’s humourless goon holding up the contents of R.C.’s pockets...


Me: “Please tell me you didn’t just try to bring a WEAPON into the Embassy.”

R.C.: “It’s not a weapon, it’s my POCKET KNIFE!”

Me: “Dear, I think the operative word there is KNIFE!”



So - YET AGAIN - off went R.C. to the Audley Pharmacy - storage of “prohibited items” must be QUITE the little earner for the proprietor of this establishment…



Poot and I wandered along the flags in front of the embassy - I set him the task of trying to identify them all…



...who sees Maryland? I do!

It seemed hard for Poot to concentrate on the game - what with the men holding machine guns constantly walking past.



Eventually R.C. came back from the pharmacy - and this time was allowed through into Stalag 17. It was “only” a ninety minute wait until Poot’s application was approved. A quick visit to Selfridges for baklava -



-and back to Hertfordshire we went. And I could feel my feet the whole time we were in London, so yay!


And then the next day...R.C. got a call from SGP to confirm that he was coming to us on Tuesday.


Me: Yes, NEXT TUESDAY.

R.C.: No, she said THIS TUESDAY. I must have given you the wrong date - sorry.

Me: But we’ve got a bunch of things on this week - and I’m due to get the test results about the tumour on the 21st.

R.C.: Well she’s already booked Eurostar, so I guess we’ll just have to make do.

Me:





Now Poot and I were meant to be going to the Para-athletics World Championships the next day - but had to stay home and get the house ready instead. I also had to try and change as many of our plans as I could...
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Old 3 Aug 17, 11:37 PM  
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Oh my goodness April
Doghouse seems too mild
You are a nicer person that me , I'd have clumped him!

Edited at 11:38 PM.
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Old 3 Aug 17, 11:37 PM  
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Oh poor you.
What a long process- I do hope the test results were ok.

Think you are amazing patient and good humoured. I would of cancelled the house guest or insisted that husband was off work and entertained the children.
Looking forward to finding out about how the visit went. 😊
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Old 3 Aug 17, 11:57 PM  
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Hanging on for an update and keeping everything crossed that test results were ok xx
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Old 4 Aug 17, 12:02 AM  
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The update lounge is quite crowded now ... who brought snacks ?
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Old 4 Aug 17, 12:16 AM  
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Originally Posted by duchy View Post
Oh my goodness April
Doghouse seems too mild
You are a nicer person that me , I'd have clumped him!
The thought occurred to me. :angry:

He's just one of those people who can't bear to let anybody down (except - occasionally - me). And in the end I decided it was easier to suck it up than it would be to upset the apple cart.

Originally Posted by Minnie Mum View Post
Oh poor you.
What a long process- I do hope the test results were ok.

Think you are amazing patient and good humoured. I would of cancelled the house guest or insisted that husband was off work and entertained the children.
Looking forward to finding out about how the visit went. 😊
Thank you - what kind words.

The test results were mostly good - about as good as they could have been. But it was a scary few weeks...

Originally Posted by joanna23 View Post
Hanging on for an update and keeping everything crossed that test results were ok xx
They were, thank you.

The update is going up now.

Originally Posted by duchy View Post
The update lounge is quite crowded now ... who brought snacks ?
Wiseacre.
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