Today I had an opportunity not given to many. I found myself quite genuinely in a position to say the report of my death was greatly exaggerated.

I've been in Sydney, you see, and when I got home, I had a message asking me to call the local estate agent/strata manager. It seems a funeral notice for Helen Meikle appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald (chief chronicler of such things in NSW) and as it isn't a common name in Australia, it put the cat among the pigeons. But no, I'm still alive and kicking, and intending to remain so for quite some time yet.

Sydney was even busier than usual this time owing to a rash of medical to-ings and fro-ings. I went down initially because my youngest daughter's arthritis, mercifully in abeyance while she was pregnant, has now returned in full force in one knee and both elbows - not easy when you have a baby - and her husband was off to hospital for a sinus operation. But in the midst of hospital visits and trips to the rheumatologist, they also discovered that the baby had to have a hip brace - trips to the paediatrician and then the Children's Hospital to get it fitted. Meanwhile D1's husband has just had a bone graft in the ankle that wouldn't heal properly after he shattered while street luging, (insanity), and as his mother appeared to be on the brink of death, he needed driving to visit her in yet another hospital during the day while D1 was at work.

Surprisingly enough, everything has now settled down. D3's arthritis has been reduced to manageable, her husband is now back at work, the baby is getting used to her brace and D1's m-in-law looks set to outlive us all yet again (she's like that). So I have now returned home armed with lengths of fabric to make clothes that will fit over a froggy brace. Several people have suggested we should go into business with the pattern I've devised, but it wouldn't be my career of choice. I spend my sewing time planning my next short story.