The week before half term, poor Middle Mudlet was struck down by a nasty infection which left her in great pain and with fever, shivers, headaches, nausea and total loss of appetite. Things weren’t helped when the out of hours doctor failed to recognise what to me were obvious signs of a bad infection, sending us home with nothing more than paediatric paracetamol, thereby delaying the start of antibiotics for a further 12 hours. Thankfully a visit to our GP the following day, was more successful and a seven day course of antibiotics was immediately prescribed.
That’s what Mud said we all needed, as we relaxed in front of the toasty warm log burner on Saturday evening. A horrified glance passed between Eldest Mudlet and I as the younger Mudlets, with all the enthusiasm of youth and no thought for windchill factors or the fact that it is the end of November, gleefully agreed to daddys’ plan of a breakfast out followed by a bracing walk along Cleethorpes sea front on Sunday morning.
Eldest Mudlet had come home for some much needed mummy time following a split with her boyfriend of three years and had been happily contemplating a night out with friends when Mud had made his announcement and she certainly hadn’t come prepared for an excursion along Cleethorpes sea front which, trust me, this late on in the year is akin to an arctic exhibition. Continue reading