Well it is now 8.06am and I am logged in the surgery. The day is part way over, if we consider home life too.
My GP husband came to bed after working on QOF data until midnight. I was awakened by sounds of DIY at 2am. Our 10-year-old son had gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night and the back panel to the toilet fell off. Rather than waken us, he got a screwdriver and was attempting to repair it! Little does he know, we have agonised for ages about how we will ever have access to the plumbing in an emergency. He went back to bed with reassurance and a cuddle.
I was up at 5.11am, with a little time to myself to order the household before the children wake up. I fed the cat, showered and dressed. The children are a little late getting up, with the hour change, but I dose my 12-year-old with paracetamol and ibuprofen (he scalded his leg at the weekend and we were in A+E – v good experience), brush my 9-year-old daughter’s hair and text her friend’s mum to make an arrangement for tea before Brownies tomorrow. I kiss everyone goodbye.
Then I swing by Tesco on the way in to buy a sandwich, and now I am about to face early scripts before my 8.30am surgery.
