Jenny Burrell

The festive season has come and gone! We started with a drinks invitation followed by a Christmas concert at the Liverpool Philharmonic. Singing carols accompanied by the Phil’s choir was really special. Our growls or high pitched squeaks were drowned out by their beautiful angelic tones which lifted the rafters!

We met up with family and friends at pubs or homes and presents soon began to pile up under the Christmas tree in my mother-in-law’s sitting room. Christmas Day was very relaxed. We didn’t have the customary turkey this year but a most enjoyable beef Wellington.

We saw the New Year in with good friends over a meal I had prepared earlier!

New Year’s Day was spent watching a hunt ride past the lane at the bottom of our garden. They were followed closely by protestors, hooded and masked, causing havoc and badly upsetting the hounds. No matter what people think about hunting, and we are all entitled to our own opinions, I strongly object to the manner in which these people behave.

They use Citronella spray to disguise the smell of the fox but this spray can cause extreme discomfort to the hounds. Some saboteurs were driving around on quad bikes and actively causing havoc to both horses and hounds, not to mention the poor unsuspecting walkers and their families out on a New Year’s day stroll. Standing at the bottom of our garden, in relative safety, I felt threatened and very sorry for a few children inadvertently caught up in the mayhem and obviously terrified!

My husband and I did manage to have our walk, albeit much later, in an effort to shift some of the festive season’s excess ‘flab’. The weather has been unseasonably mild and the clear blue sky much appreciated and lifted our moods significantly. I was fine but my husband had to psych himself up for his 4:00 am wake up call in the morning. He heads back down to Oxford and work after an almost two week break! And it’s going to be freezing cold so the car will need to be defrosted and care taken on non gritted roads which can be hazardous.

Tomorrow I’ll give the exercise class to the residents at my mother’s care home. The expert is on holiday! I’m walking with friends in the afternoon and will ‘fit in’ some dusting.

Life gets back to normal so quickly. We have the coldest months of the year to look forward to! Snow looks beautiful on postcards but not great if you have to drive in it! So roll on Spring. Were almost there …..👠

On Wednesday I went back to my old place of work. When I left six months ago I had never expected to return. I had walked to my car, laden with gifts and cards and had made the emotional decision never to go back.

Because that decision had been very emotional and I have settled so well into my new life, I wanted to catch up with some of my ex colleagues. They had become good friends over the years and, life being as it is, I hadn’t been able to arrange to meet up with all of them. So, albeit it with some trepidation, I followed the familiar route and drove back to ‘the office’ .

I walked into reception which looked very different. Christmas decorations adorned the pillars and a professionally decorated Christmas tree held pride of place in the entrance. I was met with a broad grin of recognition by the receptionist and given a visitor’s pass. I gave the name of the colleague who was coming to meet me and, within a couple of minutes, found myself back in my old ‘office’. Unfortunately a number of colleagues were absent but that was bound to happen.

Not a lot had changed. I met two of my colleagues who had helped make my ‘department’ run so smoothly. I had always really appreciated their work ethic and support. Without them my years building a department ‘fit for purpose’ would never have been possible. Spending so much time with them, they had become part of my wider family and I was very pleased to see them looking so well and happy.

Moving through the corridors meeting up with friends again was great. I poked my head around the door of a lady who was also very special. Over many years we had built up a ‘different’ relationship. We would hurl verbal abuse at each other, especially in front of unsuspecting colleagues, pretending that we were the worst of enemies! This does sound strange and quite childish when put into words, but she used to make me laugh which I found very cathartic! On numerous occasions I would become stressed and, just by spending a few minutes with her, she could diffuse the situation.

I was also a work ‘mother’ to a lovely young lady who I still meet up with for coffee. She is a mother, juggling family and work life. Both of us have been through some ‘rough patches’ and I have found her positive and objective advice as helpful as I hope my ‘maturity’ has brought to our special relationship.

Driving out through the car park I was glad that I had made the effort to pay this visit. I had really enjoyed the afternoon. Comments about looking well and stress free were appreciated and not once did I have the tiniest regret that I was no longer a part of the workplace.

I didn’t have to lay any ghosts. I just wanted to wish friends a merry Christmas and all the best for the coming year. It’s been six months since I became a lady of leisure. My how the time has flown! Six marvellous months of choice without deadlines. As their year end looms and the annual visit by the auditors comes with it’s inevitable frustration and long hours ‘dotting i’s and crossing t’s’, I will be planning my next holiday. I know how I would rather be spending my time …….👠

Last Friday was my husband”s annual office party. I can share this occasion with you because it was actually very enjoyable! Over the years the saving grace has been the company booking us into hotels so, when the music gets too loud and I give up trying to lip read and be sociable, I can always make a subtle exit!

So Friday was probably the 10th or 11th office party I had attended. Another unpleasant shopping experience (already shared) and another mooch around the hotel room killing time while my husband met his colleagues in one of the board rooms for their annual meeting.

But, this year, the meal was excellent and the company on either side of me very amenable. The music was kept to a sensible level while we worked our way through three delicious courses. Wine and champagne flowed.

Finally, the meal over, the music volume increased and chairs were scraped back from tables. I needed to build up my step count so dragged my husband onto the dance floor. I had forced my feet into seriously high heels and had to really concentrate on keeping my balance and not making a spectacle of myself!

When I felt the familiar vibrations on my wrist that the ten thousand steps goal had been reached that was my cue to leave the dance floor and rest my aching feet! I followed my husband around a few tables, met new colleagues and finally sat down and loosened my shoes.

It was then, out of the corner of my eye, that I caught sight of the coolest young man I have ever seen on a dance floor. Last year I had been so impressed by his expertise that I had told him how amazing he was, much to my husband’s obvious embarrassment! A few glasses of wine and my ‘out load voice’ takes over. My tongue becomes very loose and I morph into a gushing ‘luvvie’, heaping praise on poor unsuspecting victims!

I saw him walking towards me but never expected what was going to happen next! He came up to me, held out his hand and asked me for or a dance. My immediate reaction was to make some trivial excuse about my sore feet. How could I possibly dance with a real live John Travolta? But, biting the bullet, I adjusted my shoes and allowed myself to be led onto the dance floor. He proceeded to guide me, with both hands, spinning me round, first this way, then that, expertly catching me in mid-slip! He made it so easy! As I realised that I wasn’t going to fall, I began to enjoy the whole experience!

I was soon adding my own fancy steps, swinging my hips to the beat, holding tightly to both his hands and even singing loudly to some of the songs! I am seriously cringing as I write this! I imagined my husband turning various shades of green and young girls wondering why this amazing cool dude wasn’t dancing with them! I am such a ‘light weight’ when it comes to alcohol! All I need is a couple of glasses of wine, a good atmosphere, a mesmerising dance partner and I am transported into a fantasy world!

My dance with John Travolta was the first thing I remembered when the alarm woke me on Saturday morning. I had stumbled off the dance floor, my feet barely able to get me back to my table. My husband was still chatting to a colleague and I was to learn, later, as we made our way very slowly to our room, that he hadn’t even seen me dancing!

So, another year is drawing to a close. That will probably be our last office party. My chances of ever dancing with John Travolta again are highly unlikely! I must hasten to add that I won’t lose any sleep over this! It’s probably worked in my favour that my husband didn’t see my performance on the dance floor. I’d never have lived it down!👠

I need to share my frustration! For almost two years I have been working with a tax consultant in South Africa trying to resolve a serious financial issue regarding my mother’s pension. For some reason best known to the tax authorities in South Africa, my mother has, over the last two years, been charged tax, a lot of tax, on her meagre pension.

As I have explained in previous posts, my mother is in a care home. We have had to sell her house and buy an annuity to ensure she can have a good quality of life. My father had always worked really hard and my mother was very careful with their money to the point where we felt that they were missing out on some of the ‘fun’ things in life. But they were determined that they would have enough money for their old age.

So why is life so unfair? The tax my mother now pays is significantly more than she would have to pay in England. Her financial advisor gave me the name of a tax consultant they have dealt with in South Africa. In good faith I contacted the manager and was given a consultant to take on my mother’s case.

I understand that SARS (South African tax office) have been unreasonable in their requests for documentation, albeit my mother has lived in this country for seventeen years and paid tax, in this country, for fifteen of them. The only change in her circumstances is the fact that she is desperately in need of every penny and not able to save anything.

Over the last eighteen months I have supplied the tax office and SARS with everything they have requested. I have had mountains of documents certified as true copies, letters from solicitors, proof from the UK tax office that my mother pays tax in this country and from the UK government that my mother is a British citizen and her permanent place of residence is the United Kingdom!

My issue is that I live in England and cannot run backwards and forwards to a SARS office each time they issue another ludicrous request. My mother has dementia. I have a Power of Attorney over her finances and health and welfare hence the fact I have appointed a tax consultant on her behalf. But I am also totally reliant on the tax consultant for her help and advice. My mother has paid for this and, in good faith, I presumed that the issue would have been resolved within a few months (allowing for delays and the ineptitude of the tax office). Nothing happens quickly in South Africa but throw in the fact that my mother can’t present herself at a local branch, I wasn’t naive enough to expect a timely resolution.

I now find myself in total despair! Not only do I have to put up with idiotic requests from SARS, but the tax consultant obviously does not see this case as warranting any priority! On numerous occasions I have had to chase for an update! I have tried to remain civil. I am aware that I’m not her only client, but have finally flipped!

I have just sent ‘Joyce’ a scathing email. I was promised an update last Thursday. It is now almost a week later. Unacceptable after continued broken promises and delays. If nothing is received by close of business today I’ll report her to her manager. This probably won’t serve any useful purpose but I need to do something.

However, I seriously dread having to start the process all over again! I can already feel the pain, frustration, rage and sheer disbelief at some of the ridiculous requirements that have been thrown at me over the last couple of years! I doubt ‘Joyce’ would transfer the file to another tax consultant should I be lucky enough to find one!

i think I’ll sleep on it. Tomorrow is another day and could bring a result. I’m leaving shortly to go to the care home with my friend to give the residents a Christmas’ exercise class. I have downloaded Christmas songs so we should all have some fun! Isn’t that what life should be all about? 👠

I wish I could get into the Christmas spirit and ‘feel the love’ for shopping. I am determined that I am going to buy gifts this year and not hand out gift vouchers or cheques. However, the caveat is my family in the USA who will have dollars because I wouldn’t have a clue what to get them and the postage would cost an arm and a leg!

So I am trawling the internet, watching some daytime television (ugh) and desperately trying to think of what I can get family and friends who seem to come up with thoughtful novelty gifts for me each year! I am feeling even more despondent because I received a WhatsApp message from my lovely, organised and thoughtful cousin in South Africa who has significantly more family and friends to cater for, and was wrapping her last gift!

Tomorrow, after the exercise class at the care home, I am going to our local town and will trawl the shops. Chester didn’t inspire me so I am scraping the barrel by going to Northwich! There is a market and a few ‘okay’ shops I can peruse at my leisure. I’ll allow myself a couple of hours and try not to get too stressed! There is a family owned department store that sells delicious gluten free cakes so, if all else fails, I’ll pop in there for some inspiration!

12 hours later…….

I have reviewed my shopping list and written some ideas alongside names. I have also had a good night’s sleep so feel more positive! I’m going to widen my search by going to shops I don’t usually frequent and see if I can find novelty gifts instead of getting hung up on nice but practical!

Another 12 hours later ……..

We have lift off! Barring my mother-in-law and my husband (I know what I’m getting them so just have to order) I have finished my Christmas shopping! I have bought pretty bags and tissue paper so wrapping will be a doddle. I have gone for the fun instead of the practical! My daughter and son-in-law are having a ‘lucky dip’ hamper which should bring a smile to their faces as well as some semi-practical treats!

Today I’ll be getting into the Christmas spirit by helping serve a Christmas lunch on our Park. I take my mother and a carer out for tea this afternoon and meet two very good friends for a Christmas lunch tomorrow.

I wonder if ‘Fitbit’ has programmed Christmas treats for December so will cut me some slack! There again, maybe not! Maybe I’ll just put him back in his box and bring him out again in January! 👠

It’s Monday morning. It’s grey, foggy and raining. I was expecting someone to fix our shower at 9:00 am this morning. It’s 10:15 am and still no one has arrived! I’ve left a message on his answer phone, civil, but couldn’t quite hide some of my irritation!

I was hoping to be out of the house by now, visiting my mother (also to check up that she has been bathed and dressed) and doing some Christmas shopping. My fancy weather app has told me that the rain will stop by lunch time so I’ll be able to get out for a walk. Look how positive I am, believing my weather app and still expecting the plumber! On the plus side I have finished the ironing so not all bad!

I spent a whole day in Chester last week in the vain hope that I would do all my Christmas shopping. I also need an outfit for a Christmas party next week. Surprisingly, I drove home with a few groceries, a chocolate Father Christmas for my mother and my husband’s camera that can’t be fixed. A day wasted and my self esteem in tatters! The clothes on the high street do nothing for me and the mirrors in the changing rooms even less!

I started my day with a coffee and a list, which I expanded as I sat and people watched. I felt quite positive, albeit someone who has an allergy to shopping, no imagination regarding Christmas presents and hates trying on clothes. I had all day to do a proper shop and I do love Chester, so was going home with everything ticked off my list!

I did really try! I started off with the clothes shopping. I decided on a blouse to minimise the choice and concentrate on one item. I have a number of pairs of black trousers so gave myself an hour. Three hours later and ready for lunch, I was still without a blouse and feeling frustrated and in urgent need of a sugar fix!

That was my next challenge! 1:30 pm and everyone in Chester had decided to go for lunch! I finally found a table and a bowl of gluten free soup in M&S. A compromise, but food. The gf bun was warm and moist so not like a piece of cardboard. I read through my list. I don’t know why I scratched around for a pen because there was nothing to delete and I certainly wasn’t going to add anything!

But I did have to chuckle when I thought about my visit to a popular clothes store! Animal print is everywhere. I saw a blouse worth a try and wandered around looking for others. If I’m going to try clothes on I might as well have a choice of more than one! That was when I found a definite ‘maybe’. It was black with gold stripes and looked as if it was in two parts. It was, but there was a join on the shoulders and really awkward to get on. But I persevered and was disappointed to see that there was a tear down the one side. It was also a bit tight and looked better on the hanger!

There followed a nightmare! The tear must have been the result of the last person who tried it on! It was almost impossible to get off! I got as far as both my arms above my head and the blouse covering my face. I was well and truly stuck! I tried not to panic. If I got it on it had to come off. And I’ve been in this situation before! I took a few deep breaths. There were a number of peopling milling around outside the change rooms. I was tempted to push through the curtain, if I could fine the opening, and ask for help. I heard a man’s voice talking to a woman in the next cubicle. There was no way I was going to expose myself to any man! I had to get out of this predicament myself!

Frantic now and really annoyed that I was wasting time I tugged at the garment with my right hand. I heard a loud ripping noise as the garment moved higher and eventually over my head. I shook my arms free and noticed that the tear was quite a bit longer! I hung the blouse up losing all interest in trying on the others. I wanted to get out and breathe in the fresh air!

The plumber has just arrived and there is a tiny piece of blue just visible between the grey clouds. The shower will soon be fixed and I’ll soon be out having my walk. The power of positive thinking! 👠

Yesterday, being Wednesday, my friend and I went to the care home to give the residents their weekly exercise class. We made our own way there so I went a bit earlier to spend time with Mum. I had chosen the music so was prepared.

However, I wasn’t prepared to see Mum sitting in the foyer in her nightie, her handbag on her lap, looking as if she was about to go out. The red mist was instantaneous! I found a carer in one of the rooms and voiced my serious concern! I was told that Mum had refused to wash or get dressed so they had to move on to the next resident and would get back to her!

Once more this issue has raised its ugly head! I am bombarded with information about civil liberties, personal dignity, human rights or humane treatment of residents where force cannot be used under any circumstances! So what do you do if the resident in question is sitting in the foyer, a few feet from the front door, wearing only a nightie and soiled underwear? You can’t force them to the bathroom but surely there are other ways to get them cleaned and dressed every day?

I had to get ready for the exercise class and could see that the sitting room was filling up and my friend had arrived. I took Mum to her room and started dressing her. I wasn’t going to wash her so found the carer I had spoken to earlier. She was on her way to help Mum so let her take over.

It was when I had plugged in the docking station and was ready for the class that I spotted the assistant manger. I was still very upset but tried to calmly explain what had happened. I asked how long they had planned to leave my mother and how often this was happening? But my main concern was why no one had spent time gently tying to persuade Mum to get washed and dressed! I know Mum is still feisty and often stubborn but how far do you take civil liberties when dealing with someone with dementia? The reason why Mum is in a care home is because she cannot look after herself. She also needs a good level of hygiene to prevent recurring urinary tract infections which have dogged her for years?

The assistant manager was very apologetic. Apparently this does happen but he promised me that it didn’t happen often and never lasting as long as this morning. Unfortunately they were nursing an ‘end of life’ patient who had not received any family or friends to sit with him. It’s the care home’s policy never to leave ‘end of life’ patients on their own so they were battling with two staff down.

So this is something else I have to keep an eye on! I’ll stagger my visiting times to ensure that Mum is washed and dressed every morning to prevent her going to the dining room for her breakfast in her nightie! My proud, smart, very prudish mother would have been mortified!

I feel so sorry for all the residents who never receive visitors! Mum is in a good care home but none are perfect. Carers are only human, very badly paid and most of the time feel they are doing a thankless job. However, there is no excuse for bad treatment of any resident! So my mother’s dementia has dropped another level and will only get worse.

A resident passed away this week from a heart attack. She was only in the very early stages of dementia. There was understandable shock and sadness. At least the poor woman never lost her dignity and her family were spared the pain of watching their beloved mother sink slowly down into the hideous abyss which is this evil, debilitating, incurable disease. 👠

We spent last weekend with my mother-in-law. What a nightmare journey! An accident on the M62 had ground it to a halt. I usually nod off in the car (when I’m not driving) but with all the stopping and starting and my husband becoming more and more irate, I stayed awake for the entire journey. It lasted three hours instead of one and a half.

I was kept informed about all the idiots on the road! I also became very concerned about the state of my husband’s health! By the time we reached his mother’s house he was hoarse. I’m sure he must have also had cramp in both hands from clutching hold of the steering wheel or hand signalling to the ‘morons’ as we sped past! So it was with huge relief that I sat down and nursed a gin and tonic on our arrival. There followed a delicious meal and a hot bath, so the winter sun set on a very stressed and exhausting Friday night and Saturday morning dawned, following the same foggy, cold, wet trend.

My mother-in-law had invited two of her nieces and one of their husbands for lunch. They had all retired, a consultant, a GP and a physiotherapist so my husband was in good hands if the after effects of Friday night’s journey had required medical care! The retired consultant only stayed for a coffee before going to open the bicycle charity shop he runs with a partner. People donate their old bicycles. These are given a thorough MOT before being resold, given to asylum seekers or to those out of work. My husband’s cousin is very passionate about this project and doing a fantastic job giving back to society and filling some of his spare time.

Chatting to these two cousins, whom I’ve known for years but only met at rare family gatherings, was enlightening. One cousin had lived in America for many years but moved back to Yorkshire after the death of her husband. My husband’s uncle had four daughters and my husband is the eldest of three sons. I have heard many amusing tales of the seven of them growing up together, all from the three sons, so all one-sided! We’ll definitely visit a lot more once my husband becomes a ‘gentleman of leisure’ at the end of January. I have been warned that he will sleep throughout February (he is always tired!) and we’ll have a holiday in March. Something to look forward to as the grey, dank, mizzling days of winter settle in and the sun goes away forever …….

I am now in week four of being ‘home alone’. I still hear noises and stick my head under the duvet until the need to breathe overtakes my fear of seeing a nocturnal visitor. I listen to Classic FM and leave the house looking like a Christmas tree when I go to bed. I’m on book number three and ensure I do the easy Telegraph crossword puzzles every night. These used to put me to sleep but now seem to have the opposite effect!

Speak to you soon …….👠

Yesterday my mother was so sad. The difference from last Thursday was stark. A carer and I had taken Mum for tea, joined by Elvis Presley to liven up the journey. Mum had leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, singing along with her hero. Sometimes she would stop and question his words! ‘A wooden heart? Jenny, what’s a wooden heart?’

But Mum was happy last week. She looked relaxed, wrinkle free and loved everyone. Yesterday was so different. Mum wasn’t agitated, which could be an early sign of a urinary tract infection. She was just seriously down in the dumps. I watched her leave her room and walk slowly along the corridor. She looked up and saw me. No usual quick smile of recognition, just a sigh when she whispered my name.

it was Monday and Mum’s hair obviously hadn’t been done. I found a carer and we went to the office to check the balance in her account. She could have paid for the entire care home’s hairdos so lack of funds wasn’t the reason! Mum had decided not to get her hair washed. Civil liberties and human rights prevent carers from using any kind of physical force, but gentle persuasion usually helps. I wasn’t there so can’t pass comment!

Getting to the bottom of the reason for her depression yesterday was nigh on impossible. Mum speaks English, but not as we do. This awful disease has jumbled her words and she has lost the ability to make herself understood. So it was with great difficulty that I spent the next two hours trying to find out what had happened to cause this upset.

We sat in different parts of the living rooms as Mum couldn’t settle. As certain residents joined us she passed comments, words not understood but the look on her face showed whether she liked or disliked them! Eventually Mum asked me to go to that place, pointing to the corridor. I followed her and she walked very slowly to her room.

Mum pushed open the door and I was very surprised to see how sparse it looked. She is light-fingered, another common symptom of dementia! But yesterday there were no signs of the usual ad hoc birthday cards, little toys or sweets she had ‘found’ on her travels. Her room was immaculate. Mum shuffled a few things around her dressing table, muttering to herself. The carers sometimes have to go through Mum’s cupboards and clear out the old newspapers and magazines to make space for her clothes. They do this on a Tuesday when she is out on a weekly trip. This was Monday and her cupboards were a mess.

I asked Mum if she was worried about something. The word ‘worry’ seemed to resonate with her. ‘I think I should be worried’ Mum told me. ‘I don’t think I should be here. I should be at home’. Her words were spontaneous and concise. Her eyes, usually dull, looked alive. Mum stared up at me, my old Mum, back from her living hell, perplexed and confused. I gave her a big hug. Mum is not a frail little old lady. Physically she is robust and quite sturdy. She didn’t hug me back. I let her go and saw, once more, the pair of brown, dull, lifeless eyes. Alas, in that split second, Mum had taken that step back into her twilight world.

As soon as I got home I rang the manager. I thought something must have happened to cause Mum’s earlier upset. Nothing had been reported. Physically Mum looked well. I visit regularly so that I can keep an eye on her. The staff know me and I try to help where I can. I do sometimes have to voice my concerns but always try to be constructive as I know a carer’s job is not easy!

So yesterday was probably another symptom of this inhuman disease. It brings torture to the sufferer by allowing brief moments of lucidity and leaves family and loved ones heartbroken. A living hell on earth. Please God, let us find a cure. 👠

Last Thursday I bit the bullet and had my eyebrows tattooed! I have never had lush eyebrows and have spent many years of my life creating a ‘perfect pair’ every morning!

When I worked I would set the alarm half an hour earlier to paint my eyes, primarily to manufacture eyebrows with minimal assistance. I produced my own version with a dark brown pencil and have stuck to that shape for the last thirty years.

So, last Thursday, after waiting for almost three months for an appointment, I painted my eyebrows for the last time (so that the woman could find them!) and drove to the little beauty parlour just outside the village. I was still not sure if I wanted to go ahead with the procedure.

Rebecca asked me to sit up straight at the end of the bed, eyes closed. My current eyebrows were removed with the sweep of a wet wipe. ‘That’s not your natural shape’ I was told. I was surprised that there were enough hairs to see any shape! ‘I’m going to draw eyebrows for you and we can work from there’ Rebecca said, the sound of the pencil almost grating in my ears.

I looked in the mirror. I hardly recognised the face staring back at me! I saw two brown slugs languishing above each eye! Rebecca explained how she measured the eyebrow from the inside and the outside of each eye. She remarked that eyebrows weren’t twins, they were sisters. No two were identical! After a few minimal tweeks I lay down and the process began.

Rebecca spread an analgesic cream on each eyebrow and explained the process, detailing what will happen over the next seven days. I can’t get them wet and must avoid touching them. They will form small scabs which will drop off (great!). The defined strokes will soften and my eyebrows will look natural. After a month I return to have them perfected, filling in any gaps and thickening up where required. Every year I go for a ‘top up’. And, hey presto, that is how I will become the proud owner of a pair of no maintenance eyebrows, sisters, not twins!

This is Monday morning. My eyebrows itched through the night. They look darker than last week and I have to remember not to touch them. My hair will not be washed tonight but will have to make do until Thursday. I’m getting used to the slugs on my face and am hopeful that the defined strokes will soon morph into delicate hairs, lush and natural!

I’ll keep you posted! 👠