Still here.

I know it’s been a bit quiet recently but we are still here and haven’t gone.  That’s me and my demented mother, who has lately been very demented indeed.

There’s been a lot in the way of hour long telephone haranguings, the care agency round in force late at night to try and settle her and so on.  She called the doctor out and the chap who arrived prescribed something which is not in the pill tray but self administered, therefore quite likely to be overdosed on.  Etcetera and so forth and so on and more of that.

So in between I just got out in the garden. We built a little garden store to house the proliferation of garden chairs currently cluttering up the shed, it was a kit that the other half did the heavy construction for.  I spent the last two days painting it and today I roofed it with roofing felt, sticky mastic, barge boards and asphalt tiles left over from the shed.  The door hasn’t been put on yet so we can grab hold to lift it into the corner I concreted for it last week.  In a week of rain the wet washed nicely into the drain I put in, so I’m sure the store will be high and dry.

So with the heavy work and the heavy listening and all the worry, especially last Saturday evening when there were three suicide threats per sentence, I haven’t had time to blog.  I have fallen into bed exhausted and only been woken by the cats at six, scrabbling on my bedroom door because it is light.  I wonder if airlines make those black velvet eye masks in very small sizes?

The other half is controlling and bananas and has no idea why he feels so tired, though I think if I could interview assorted bits of him I’d get the answer; he is up to his fill level with the commuting and currently the car, which went excessively broken sounding on the way home last visit and only just limped back, is in the garage, expensively.  My mother is alternately bananas and controlling, at present I’m getting a lot of which possessions have to be done what with after she’s gone.  My father did the same with his endless lists of who had to have what.

It’s interesting to note that despite the pyramids, the Terracotta Army, Madame Arcati and all, there really has been nothing to disprove the saying that you can’t take it with you when you go, though lots of quite ordinary people have had a good try.

All of which is the reason I got out in the garden instead of sitting by the computer because you also cannot build a shed when you’re dead but if you fit it in between the showers you can maybe persuade yourself you are still living your own life, a bit.  Plus, you can get rid of a lot of frustration hammering in nails.  Four clouts for every tile.  Galvanised.  Bash, bash, thump.  Excellent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ – rained upon but still working.

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