Hanging in; hanging on...

My husband is still in Intensive Care, fighting many fights to regain the ability to breathe independently. He will be permanently paralysed but the extent of this is not known. He'll need months of rehabilitation before we can come home.

I am hovering in my new life; I've been house-sitting for eleven weeks and am now about to move into the 1940's solid brick flat equivalent of a serviced apartment, near the beach. This move is both a step forward and an enormously difficult and energy-defeating task.

The road from 20th January to here is indescribable. But I DO think the odd application of Chanel No. 5 helps.