Am I in Lego Star Wars?

I was trying to fathom out my current predicament last night and came up with 2 theories:

1. I have been chosen to test the real life version of some computer game:

• Level 1. Player's central heating is removed. In summer. Easy.
  
• Level 2. Player's kitchen is removed.
  
• Level 3. Player's bedroom is removed.
• Level 4. Player's water is cut off and piped in through an open window.
• Level 5. Conditions change. It's snowing. Still no heating and afore-mentioned pipe freezes.
• Level 6. Player's electricity goes off without warning, about once a day, usually after dark.
  
• Level 7. Weird things start happening. Inanimate objects, aimed at player's head, fly through the air while player is travelling at speed. Quick thinking is required.
• Level 8. The game picks up pace. Use of player's right arm is removed.
• etc...
  

2. I have said "I can cope with anything if Quent stays healthy" just once too often and someone is having a laugh.

Mrs Bean

Quent's birthday was busy. We did a lovely 7.5m walk together in the morning, ending in the fabulous Cafe in the Park for lunch. Then off to Hemel Hemstead hospital for a cystoscopy for Quent. He has blood in his urine again and they are trying to find out why. It was clear, which rules out bladder cancer and we're still hoping it's something minor.

We went to the Crazy Bear for dinner and rushed home, full of ideas for decorating the spare room - currently a shell with dry linings off and several floorboards up...

One minute I was envisaging the room in full glory, the next I was dangling with my right leg in the dining room and the rest of me upstairs. I persuaded Quent to ring for an ambulance. Never one to exaggerate a medical situation, he told them his wife had fallen over and banged her elbow.

The A&E team at Watford General did not manage to sort out the dislocated shoulder, but the orthopaedic team finally relocated it at 6am, with the help of some "date-rape" style drugs. That seemed a lengthy enough recovery period (try not to dislocate your shoulder; it's really painful), but the broken arm will take even longer to mend. I am typing this with my left hand and cannot drive for six weeks.

Earlier in the week, a rock had shattered my windscreen, while I was driving in the outside lane of the M1- but that's a different episode.

speshl dlivire.

There was a card on the kitchen table this morning, addressed to Mr Q.Webb. It said speshl dlivire, so we knew it was important. Anyone would think it was his birthday.

Quent saw all but 3 weeks of the 60s, the 70s, the 80s, the 90s and the noughties... and now we're ready for the next 50 years!

Here's a picture of the early days. Quent's mum calls this "slum child pose". I call it "So Quent did once own a comb".

A batchworth beaver

Tonight Oakley started at Batchworth Beavers. This was probably an even bigger event in Quentin's life than in Oakley's. In the 1960s, they didn't have Beavers, but Quent started as a cub in the same group and the same hall - the hall which his father had helped build a year or so earlier. Batchworth is Quent's second family and he has dreamed of taking his son there ever since Oakley was born (or maybe even before). The dream required surviving cancer and persuading his wife to move to Rickmansworth, so it was no foregone conclusion.

Fortunately, Oakley had a good time. His first words to Quent when we got home were "Dad, can you get me the uniform please, because I want to stay a Beaver?" Phew!

Forgive the slush. Moments like this are extra precious when you thought they might never happen.

Escape from ItzCold

Before Christmas I was offered a part time job in Barnsley for three months. Now, most people might not be too keen on a 3 hour commute, but a cold house and an empty bank balance can give you a funny perspective on life*. When my contact suggested the overnight stay might not be compatable with family life, my only answer was "Is the hotel heated?"

Like all good escape plans, my first attempt was thwarted. I set out last Tuesday before dawn and made it to Sheffield before having to turn back, due to the most amazing amount of white stuff falling from the sky. Eight hours of radio 4 later, I arrived home again.

This week was easier. My plan to construct a glider in the attic failed - Oakley and Quent were using all the spare wood to build a sledge - and my hope of digging a tunnel under the M1 was dashed as we'd lent the shovel to a neighbour for the snow. In the end, I went for a Volvo, a bag of sweets and a thermos - and it worked a treat. Here I am in the warmth of the Ramada Encore, tapping away and watching the telly.

For those of you hoping for any sensible updates on our progress, the summary is as follows:

• Work has practically stopped on the house as roofers don't work in the snow and the plasterer reckons he's still snowed in.
  
• We had a lovely Christmas and New Year and now I should be back at Weightwatchers, but the meetings clash with my regular night of hotel living.
• Oakley's school was only open one day in the first week back. The home-made sledges were great.
• Quent has to see a urologist as he has blood in his urine. The Prof thinks it's unlikely to be kidney cancer related, so we're trying to stay calm.
  

We hope 2010 is happy and healthy for you all and that everyone else's building projects are going faster than ours.

*Top tip: If your husband suggests having the central heating removed in the summer, do ask when the replacement will arrive.