At the weekend......

So....we had a weekend of wildness without the Boy....well, wild as only we can.

It started on Friday with chips after work. Not just any old chip, oh no. Crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, perfectly salted chips.....provided ,for a small fee, by a local eating establishment. On returning home, I found the kitchen in a state of happy disarray.

As mentioned, M has been painting the kitchen, in lieu of re-doing the kitchen which we can't afford. Naturally, shelves have had to be cleared and cupboards emptied. Since the Boy was away, the contents of said cupboards and shelves were in piles on the table and worktops. Had the Boy been here, these things would soon have become a challenge, playthings, items to be thrown but as the Boy was not here, they were merely piles, innocent piles of kitchen essentials and/or detritus.

We left the kitchen thus.

Saturday saw us in a local supermarket, enjoying a sumptuous breakfast of bacon rolls in their niche cafe. We joined the other silver-haired breakfast eaters, although M wasn't wearing mustard cord trousers and I no gilet.

We then drove to visit one of our offspring on her narrow boat home. We had a most enjoyable day of sunshine, walks and tea....and we were still home in time to watch an entire episode of 'Vera'. Normally,  we are only able to watch part of an episode, and that on mute with subtitles so that the Boy is not rendered anxious.

Sunday dawned. M painted a second coat on those areas which required them in the kitchen then we drove to London to visit the youngest of our brood. We braved the public transport system, heading for the delights of Kew. I embarassed myself only twice..once as I tripped up a set of concrete stairs,  landing on my knees and grazing my hand and on the second occasion as I burst into song,albeit muted, at the sight of the words Underground and Overground in close proximity. The song was ,of course, that well known popular ditty sung by Bernard Cribbins concerning Wombles.

On arriving at Kew, the queue (yes, it was a Kewqueue)almost deterred us..but we are made of sterner stuff and queued as only Brits can. We even fended off potential queue jumpers. Politely, of course, without words but with stern looks and Britishness.

The gardens themselves were a delight,  the cafes full, the art installations stunning,the weather generally kind and the day declared a success.

Today, Monday, will require kitchen reassemblage but I can say that we packed in as much as two ageing, exhausted carers can in our weekend of respite.

Huzzah.

The End

Hairdressing

Just thought a different picture might be in order.

Here I am, thoughtfully having my hair and head rearranged by the Boy.

The slightly wild look is one with which my chums are familiar. It's the 'of course I am coping' look.

The End

catching up

So...here I am after a very long time. Why the silence?   Why not? Life  and all that it entails have prevented me from writing....I have been up, I have been down, JBoy has been mostly awake, I have hurt my back so M has been permanent ParentonDuty for goodness knows how long ...you know, the usual.

One thing which is HUGE is that we have dipped our toes into the big ,scary pool of residential care for our Boy. As we are not getting any younger and as the Boy has not outgrown his dreadful sleep patterns, we have decided that,long term , the best plan would be to make sure that he has the best care available....and that might not be us. It is, quite frankly, terrifying.

It has all been approved in theory but the powers that be need to find a reasonably priced bungalow in this town of ours, where cheap and yet large bungalows are few and far between...so it may be some time. They need a dwelling for 3 or 4 chaps, including our Boy, plus residential carers . ...with outside space, in the local environs so that the chaps can still go to the MMDC.....all for less than a sum specified.

We mostly don’t think about, choosing to face it when it becomes more of a reality for us. Also, if I think about it too often I feel dreadfully sad.

What else????

Ah yes....M may be made redundant...but he may not. The local authority for whom he works has no money and is looking to save as much as they can...by dispensing with useful and marvellous people who help the vulnerable. It isn’t a done deal for M, unlike some of his colleagues who have already gone.  (We have mentally spent the redundancy package 😂😂😂😂)( on frivolities...like a new set of kitchen taps as our cold water tap often decides that it knows best and that we don’t need water after all, even though we thought we did)(or maybe we could have a small holiday???????) So we await the decision. To be honest, it holds less anguish than it would have done 10 years ago as we are so much older and so much more tired than we were then....

I am still working at the Bookface. It is still my bit of space to be me rather than Jboy’s mum ...my colleagues are a lovely  lot...which makes it even better.

I have been teaching myself Russian for about a year....as if I don’t have enough to keep my brain whirling in a frenzy. I love it. I can read a bit now and request tea, coffee or bread...so I should be fine, come the Revolution.


Well, M is busy painting the kitchen,,,as you do when you have a respite weekend...so I had better minister to him with tea and biscuits.

Maybe I will be able to get my mental state into a place  of being able to write stuff again. (It helps me even if no one in the world reads it)

So, once again, this is
The End