Salvage from the Wreckage

By NickMogToo

Get me to the mediaeval barn on time

Where were we?
On Sunday, mum was back in hospital with high heart-rate and fluid on her lungs. A change of meds quickly sorted out the heart rate. But the fluid took longer. The impatient patient expected each day to be released and each day was disappointed. Until Wednesday when they drained the fluid and sent her home. To relief all round.
Today was my brother's eldest's wedding. So everyone, mum included, headed up to Shropshire. The wedding was in a hotel that used to be an old Manor House. It was very appropriate for Jake and Georgina, who, when not getting married, are usually to be found re-enacting some of the bloodiest bits of our history. The re-enactors at the wedding could be easily identified by their facial hair and ponytails.

The whole thing went really well. J and G had managed things on a modest budget but the overall effect was that it was very personal rather than that corners had been cut.

And, in the evening, the elderly Mog brothers, after a carefully considered amount of preparation*, treated the youngsters to a masterclass in shape-throwing and move-busting.

It was nice spending a day with the extended family but also with H and M who flew in from the four corners of Europe to attend (Paris and Kephalonia).

Here we have a six-for-the-price-of-one deal. Mum, Uncle D, H, C, Aunt T and Uncle G. UG is asking Mum and AT whether they realise that they each have a small bird nesting on their heads.

*About three pints of preparation.

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