I got an earlier train to London so arrived with plenty of time to go to Waitrose, cook puddings and talk. And boy did we talk. That's dad and me.
Dad wheezed as the love flowed and said how lost he feels without her...you know, he misses how she waits on him, argues with him about vests, talks with him about everything and other inane things like that.

Later...
We held hands by the the kerbside and I used my other hand to grab a cab and so flat capped dad and beret headed me shot along the darkening streets to Thistlewayte ward in St Mary's.
How different the roads and people look when you're 'in the zone'...

Mum looked like a dolly.
A little white head protruding from the top of a sweet overly pink dressing gown and with pale hands resting on The Mirror.
Dad plopped into the comfy chair while I bagged the hard one.
"You're as tough as old boots Ang"
"You're as tough as old boots".

"Thanks Lil" I smiled "You're a soldier too" (Lil is a nickname which was born many decades ago.)

So I studied her without showing it while dad went mental with newspapers and tangerines.
I hate to say it but my tongue went into overdrive because I also talked almost non-stop. Most uncharacteristic. Then nursie came round to plug mum into the national grid so she could get her full hundred quids worth of meds. Being a closet comic I made a fanatstic joke about being a coke head:)

By now it was getting night time dark outside, so on with the lights and with that, more banter from me and dad mostly to do with age and how horrible it is when he gets out of puff just making the tea.
Mum of course has heard all this sorry stuff before, but me, I just said give me all your money daddyo and head out onto the black streets before the boogie man comes.
I could see this was becoming such a bore to him and he really needed to go home.

He left after kissing mum on the forehead and holding my hand! WHAT? Still I suppose fear and loneliness makes the gooey stuff come out. Felt good though feeling his hand again.
Before going he dropped me a tenner saying it was for a taxi to Queensway station...He he he thought the wicked daughter....

Mum's dinner came about 7, bloody inedible it looked too, two tiny pieces of beef with five painfully thin slices of potatoes! Not even WHOLE potatoes. The NHS, bless its heart, sure knows how to keep its customers slim. She shoved it around a bit, even mangaing to eat a little, but after a little blackmail she did at least eat the potatoes.

We chatted like best friends. mostly as usual about men and love and hard skin, then with a sad heart I said I had better get going.
One last order from me...Keep behaving yourself and you'll be on your way home...
I then slid my hands under the blanket and tickled her thighs.

After a sardine journey to Stratford I bagged a seat on the big train next to bloke asleep. Lovely.
Home at 9 to Monty and a fat mug of very sweet tea. Calories are so unimportant. Now.

Well that's about it, I could say more, but I won't. Much rather get on with making a fat brown beef casserole with giant booby dumplings.
:)