First the dawters birthday.
Lots of people, lots of booze, lots of little sausages cooked in honey and sesame seeds.
Secondly my birthday. The big tall son-in-law came home from Bali. Enough of us to stand on the kick step to hug him and then sing happy birthday to me with candles on a cake that had such dense, thick chocolate icing that half a fingerful sent me careening around he living room.
I have a phone full of thank you photos that I haven't downloaded.
Thirdly it was Easter.
Fish pie and cauliflower cheese.
The biggest Easter Sunday breakfast with smoked salmon and sausages and toast and bagels and scrambled eggs and champagne and I'm not even a card carrying member of the Easter bonnet brigade.
Roast chicken - I bought one in a bag with bacon on top and stuffing inside - the instructions said to leave it in the tray. I admit I must have misread the small print cos the tray melted all over the oven, a gloopy, black mess.
Roasted potatoes Roasted parsnips Sweet carrots. Green beans and broccoli.
The evening ended abruptly when the 8 year old chucked a turn and her parents gathered up the weekend and left before the Bakewell Tart had been taken out of its packaging.
Easter died down, bits of chocolate are still scattered over the cottage, I nibble a bit when I can't face the ironing, the washing, the cleaning the.......
And then a trip to the osteopath to make sure the elbow is mending.
A trip to the calendar to look at the new weeks events of hospital appointments, physio, somebody coming to talk to me about exercise and food regime to create optimum health before I leave for America.
And driving to the station and back twice a day to take and collect the actor who has started in a new play at The Arcola. Him and Greg Hicks and Claire Higgins and others putting on a play about a newspaper. It starts in two weeks.
And then Friday saw the German girlfriend arrive complete with belated birthday perfume and marzipan and vodka and fancy schmancy soap.
Yesterday was drop-off the thespian for the 8.51 train. Then back to shop for supper. Then three hours at the kitchen table talking about life, death and what's a neat hairdo for Florida in June.
Then into TWells for caffeinated breakfast tea and spicy coleslaw in BASIL, a delightful little eatery.
Then the osteopath again, who managed to lay my arm flat without me yelping like a yak in a trap.
Then a wander till the 'oosbind climbed off the train and we went home.
I walked him round the garden which is being transformed by. I have hollyhocks and delphiniums, wallflowers and ranunculus, I have potato flowers and passion flowers. I have put in three different kinds of clematis and a deep blue rhodydrendrobnodyndodod, you know the one. There's lupins and rosemary, parsley and japonica. I'm telling you when the daffs die down and the wind has blown the petals off the Tulip tree the garden will be blue and purple, pink and green.
The old git is catching up on the golf, I've eaten half a tub of natural yoghurt with maple syrup. The German fraulein was driven back to Gatwick this morning to board the express to Heathrow. I was in the bath when she arrived home. Just managed to chat to Hamburg before I balanced the phone on the window sill.
The drive back from Gatwick through Ashdown Forest was light and clean blue skies. Too many cyclists driving in the centre of the road. Grrrr.
Please forgive me for my lack of dedication but what with a broken arm and being a taxi driver and a huge earhole for family nonsense I have been busy reading about heaven.
DR. EBAN ALEXANDER: PROOF OF HEAVEN.
DR. EBAN ALEXANDER: MAP OF HEAVEN
The neurosurgeons version of life while brain dead.
Apart from reading and meditating and meeting a Pranic healer, life is going swell for this old bird.
Jim said over supper last night - duck, red cabbage and sautÚd new potatoes - that when he looked at my ancient body he realised he was getting old.
I didn't talk to him for 8 minutes then all was forgotten when he massaged my feet and fixed the fountain in the well.
Jim's play is on until mid May, when I fly out to Kentucky where I will be tasting bourbon and staring down the horses in Lexington.
I will write more, now that my left elbow doesn't hurt.
The yogurt has made me feel sick, the loud applause from The Masters is irritating, I've had a bath so the only thing I can do now is return to Dr. Eban and find out where I'm going when I'm dead.
Night to you all and watch this space.
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes