As I mentioned before, my mum had warned me of his appearance and so I was racked with nerves beforehand, but when I saw him I recognised him instantly and a little relief washed over me. He didn't look as bad as I'd imagined, but still not good by any stretch. We stayed for a bit over an hour I think. He slipped in and out of consciousness, occasionally speaking incoherently and seemed in some discomfort (wouldn't you if you'd been in the same bed for almost three weeks). A couple of flashes of recognition towards the end of our visit, but it was mostly me and mum chatting, and I held his hand for a time.

Being back at the house was worse in a way - no one would sit in "his" chair in the living room. Later the sight of his dressing gown knocked a powerful punch of unspeakable sadness into my gut.

Ollie, Leo (bear) and I are going to Norfolk next week with Ollie's sister and my brother-in-law, who are both great company and fun. Three nights. Like I said, I have limits on how long I am prepared to holiday with a three-year-old, even when it's my own. The timing feels bad, but sitting around waiting for something to happen would be so much worse, probably.

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