This isn't a post.
It's just a postscript to yesterday's post.
I wrote yesterday's post about Sofa Surfers and later the same afternoon got a call from one of my sons to say things had gone a bit pear-shaped for him and he was in the dumps.
I sorted things with partner, and at 6.00 pm hopped in the car and drove the 60 miles to my son's flat.
We chewed the fat over a bottle of wine. He felt a bit better, no way would I even consider driving home. He offered me his bed, but I insisted he get a good night's sleep so for me it was...the sofa.
First night I've slept on a sofa for twenty years.
It was a leather one (see post below). And had been rescued by son and his student girlfriend from a skip three weeks ago.
I slept badly. But; the joy and laughter from the Sofa-Surfing new girl in our house, when I told the story of my night, was well, well worth it.
The Secret Foster Carer