Then it was a waiting game – Daughter-in-law Sarah was due to give birth last Saturday. We thought Erin Mae would understand if we hung around here until our fifth grandchild made his appearance. The warmth and sunshine led to a great barbecue with friends in our garden on Sunday and, yesterday, to a visit to see the roses at the National Trust's Mottisfont Abbey. Wow! It's a special collection of old roses that flower just in June, and they were spectacular!
Bushes and standards and climbers and ramblers. The world and his wife was visiting.
It was while I was still lamenting my technical inability to capture with the camera the full impressions that the eye was getting that the message came through that we'd missed a phone call from the expectant parents. Mottisfont is a pretty dead spot for mobile signals, and we had to take advice and walk a few hundred yards to get in touch. It was great news – though we only got the whole story when home in the evening.
Sarah's labour had started in the early hours. About 7 or 8 a.m. the contractions were getting serious and then the waters broke and Junior started to appear without further ado. While paramedics and a midwife were on their way, Nº 3 Son started helping with delivery on the bathroom floor, one hand holding the phone through which he was getting instructions from someone at 999, and the other stopping the baby's head from coming out too fast! It was relief when the super-competent midwife appeared to manage the final phases and everything turned out well. To the point where Nº 3 Son was able to go and do his gig last night! Well, as the Tesco ad says, every little helps.
So in the last wee while there have been all sorts of celebrations – for a birth, a confirmation, a wedding and for the life of a gracious and gentle man who died too young. We wouldn't have missed any of it.
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