Worrying News.

 Sunday 19th October 2025

We had some worrying news at church this morning. Moss has been losing weight recently, even though he’s been eating well. He finally decided to see the doctor, who sent him for further tests. Now that the results have come back, it seems the news isn’t the best. He’s being sent for an urgent scan — though “urgent” in this country means a wait of two weeks. It’s hard not to feel anxious, knowing he’s quietly carrying that weight of uncertainty. Everyone who knows him feels it.

Of course, this means no Victoria sponge cake for me, which is perfectly fine. I wouldn’t want him doing anything for the sake of my little routine, however much I enjoy it. It wouldn’t sit right. I know too well what it’s like when people expect you to keep something going just to make their world run smoothly. I’ll just have to learn to make my own. I’m sure Mum can advise — and if not, I know someone else who can.

It’s been raining all afternoon and into the evening, a steady grey curtain that has kept the world hushed. Now that my time is mostly spent on these diary entries, I’ve had a chance to catch up on a few backdated ones — small moments I’d meant to record but hadn’t. It felt grounding, somehow, to bring those memories back to life while the rain whispered outside.

Dad joined us for afternoon tea in the summer house, which felt like a small pocket of peace in the day. The rain pattered on the roof, and the heater hummed softly while the lamplight turned everything golden. Even though the weather outside was miserable, we were warm and cocooned in our little circle. None of us wanted to make the dash back to the house. In the end, it was Dad’s rumbling stomach that gave us away, breaking the spell with a laugh.