The Day Itself was patchy.
Mum crying... myself and Mr H keeping our heads down. So not the best way to spend the fun day.
Our beef dinner would have tasted better if there'd been three of us sitting at the old table but mum broke her promise to join us preferring instead her own plate of food and her own company.
This was NOT what Christmas Day is about.
But as usual there wasn't anything I could do to shift her from her large electric chair or put a even a half smile upon her face.
Boxing Day however was better.
Mr H driving into work on account of not a single train running out of Southend, he didn't relish the prospect but the man did well, arriving promptly at work at 8 a.m. and returning to myself, mum and a very excited Mr Hairy Suit before 5 p.m. and me with me Yorkshire puddings still unmade.

The night was fine. Mother kept her own counsel, Excellent boiled bacon followed by slices of  Sitcky Toffee Cake and chilled double cream....
I had a sip of ginger wine, the men preferring softer tipples, mother as usual hanging on to her pink drink from Sainsbury's.

I haven't written about presents!
I got loads.

Today saw Mr Hairy and myself driving in the rain trying to find a shop open that sold Calor Gas, after a little while I told the ever so patient Hairy that I was fed up with looking for gas and that I was going home gasless. On the way back we stopped orf for milk and papers. Spa Road was empty, only life was the black and dust of speeding cars. God how I loathe pig ignorant drivers.

Mother was unimpressed by the lack of Calor but I didn't respond instead hiding in my kitchen till the redness in her cheeks had mellowed.
Talking of mellow... A tall fascinating man from the DWP visited us early this morning informing mother of her right to extra cash.
And as the gentle soul asked mother the same questions she's been asked a hundred times before I noticed how like Jesus Christ he was.
Very long oily dark brown hair, an even longer wispy cobwebby beard, dark brown hooded eyes and a fantastic rings and bells and gizmos watch. God, he wasn't what I'd expected. Sandals even protected His feet.
But he did what needed doing and after getting a signature he left.

I'm making a Bolognaise for tea. And will if I can, resist being forced into another heart breaking conference with mother regarding her imminent departure for London. I love the old bean but she's a twit if she thinks she'll cope on her own, with her bad legs, one good eye, two clogged up ears and three types of cancer.
And more to the point I don't want to be brought to court on a charge of Neglect.
No m'dear love ya to bits but you're living and dying here.



:)

.......There's a big fruit cake on the dresser, made last night, wrapped in foil.
More baking being done this afternoon, some of it a little fancy, all of it made with copious amounts of love.

But before I get me bowls out I have to take Mother out. Yes OUT. Never in the history of all my Christmaseses have I ever gorn out on the Eve. But how can I deny mumsie one last bump and grind around the blasted Co-Op.

If I have time I'll eat.


Merry Christmas ALL

X


:)

,,paddled my way around the blasted Co-Op to pick up last minute baking essentials. ( had an idea when eating breakfast in McDonalds) so armed with a few last quid filled the basket with sweet and savoury ingredients.

Breakfast for me is usually porridge but had been invited by Mr Hairy and young Master Hairy to partake in a sausage and egg McMuffin at 9 a.m. so drove like the clappers with windscreen wipers doing a merry dance to an early morning brekkie date.

On arrival Master Hairy was already tucking in, whereas Mr Hairy's McThing looked kinda sad. Only half eaten and falling out of its wrapper. My arrival soon changed that. Master Hairy's smile lit up the burger place while Mr Hairy rapidly swallowed off his limp sausage then set about ordering my early morning nibble.

Gotta say it, nothing quite lifts the heart than good food with mates. I delighted in Master Hairy's company, he's a boy of outstanding charm and possibilities and when waiting inline for his second breakfast of the day I couldn't help but begin to love him.

We didn't sit glumly as the rain thrashed the panes instead we joshed about our middle names, Father Christmas, Jack and The Beanstalk and presents. The years dropped orf. Suddenly I was 10 again. Goofing. Larking with bottles of milk and generally having the time of my life.
So thanks Mr and Master Hairy for a wonderful free and breezy morning.

Then to the Co-Op and that's where I came in... I'm doing a lot of cooking over the next few days and being a cook I never know when to stop. So what started out as a few bits has turned into a sack full of bobs!

Okey Dokey..Now I must get on. It's Saturday and I've a few things to attend to. First orf...bread making, then more yeasted dough for tonight's pizza.
A pudding will be useful because pizza, however large, don't always fill a cavernous tummy:)

..........Been a good day with mum. No swearing, or 'looks', no crying or many requests, just a quiet friendly at-ease day with a great girl/friend/mother. Really.

Joan loved the bread I made for her. Told me she'd fill her sandwich with cheese and onion and that her husband loves my cakes and that she's so worried about Debbie her daughter who is very ill... The middle of a shop is not the place for giving advice so I didn't. I just nodded as she looked deeply into my eyes and I wondered if she wanted to cry.

This afternoon saw me feeding Mr Hairy a simple sandwich then after the briefest of visits he left and I got on with making a Beef Madras.
I bought a pink roll neck jumper today and sparkling pink stoned bracelet, the two go well together.

Had a chat with the lady in the chemist as I waited for a prescription. Asked about mum and then went on to tell me about her 92 year old mum who has Parkinsons.

I've put a large bespectacled father Christmas in a bush near the door.

I must say goodnight now as I want to read another two chapters of Stephen King's 'The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon'. before I drift orf.

Goodnight All

More Upheaval.

......I'm ready to go to Sainsburys but first we wait a visit from the district nurse.

They're good eggs, the nurses, some easier to talk with than others but overall ok.
I'm wondering what London district Nurses are like... will they be as jolly as Sandra or as cool as Lynn we'll find out...

Mum cried this morning.
Her shrunken face red, her eyes mauve ringed, her mood, desperate.
She wants to go home.
No doubt.
In the past she's seen sense realizing that being home alone wouldn't be wise. But this time, this morning, sense was trampled and love for her home and the life she had in it with dad, won out.
Therefore I told her that after Christmas I'd somehow get her home.

A talk with her London GP is first on the list then, if she's still adamant about dying in the Smoke, I'll set about refreshing her rooms and sorting out home visits from various agencies.

I knew this was coming.

So m'dears, along with a visit from a bod from the DWP next week it looks as if the start of the new year will be interesting.


I'll be frying some steak today, always try to cook something special when Mr H has a day orf.
Also on the agenda, baking a fruit cake for charity shop Joan and a big Farmhouse loaf for us. Which reminds me Hairy Suit bought me a 4lb loaf tin. It's such a whopping beauty that I've put in on the windowsill.

Now I must fly:)

Our Christmas

The lights on the tree....Grapes sized diamonds hanging on thick sage green
Ginger Wine on a doily. A curvaceous decanter waiting to be handled
Fat stocky red cinnamon scented candle impaled on matte black spike. Its scent soporific.
A tall orange oil lamp waiting for a new wick.
Church like candle, vanilla in flavour, lit high looking down from its over ornamented holder.
A round apple green cloth box home to a handful of toffees.
A shopping list in my bag. Nothing ridiculous or fancy. More a case of simple food got glorious. Beef for the big day for example.
Two small wooden trays holding five soft and smooth toy cats. Their home; the top of plastic coals on my broken electric fire.
Father Christmas in the shrubs. Held in place by withering scratchy branches.
Last year's plastic wreath leaning against the wall underneath the outside light. Steady on account of a noisy solar powered blue tit pressed up against it.
Mounting excitement at the thought of Buche de Noel on Christmas Day. Unadorned, no plastic holly, only a dusting of cocoa.
Hidden presents.


Today has been relaxing.
I did my list with Hairy by my side and Mother asleep in her electric chair..
Faggots for tea.


Now bed.
Tired but content.

....................A chilly but friendly stroll around the top end of the High Street made me happier and more determined than ever to make this Christmas a good one.
We drifted into Oxfam where a bird-like lady enthused as mum laid her five murder novels on the counter.
"Ooooh dear" said Bird woman "Someone likes crime"
Mum did her imperious thing by saying nought.
£8 on paperbacks then off to the other shop, the Cancer Relief shop in the untidy down at heel part of Southchurch Road.
Inside though a very clean and happy place. A cream jumper for mum and a fringed tan brown suede skirt for me. A steal at £4.50 for two. We hit our way out nearly bringing down a rail of menswear.


I was parched so was Mother so I suggested/asked if a sit down with mug of tea might just be the ticket. She agreed so into the Franklin cafe where three elderly life worn male patrons sat hugging their mugs whilst thumbing well used papers.
"Sorry love" said elderly patron 1
I'd brushed his chair as I attempted to manoeuvre mother in between his wooden chair and deeply sunk brown leather two seater sofa. Why do British people apologise so readily. He was blameless it was me whose steering was awful. But we got there eventually and with mum and Mr H in place I ordered two teas please and one sugarless coffee. Ta.
(The girl who served me needed a comb through her hair but her life situation was unknown to me so I tried not to judge.
The tea was really good. Very hot and generous in size.

On our way out I did a few quick soulful dance moves to Hey Ya! which was bellowing beautifully from the on counter radio.
"Look, she's dancing " said uncombed girl to stiff red haired mangeress
I loved it, letting go, doing something mad till mother blew away my starstudded bit of fun by snapping
 "Let's get out of here"
Good God dear mother, don't you ever want to boogie?

It had got windy so I draped Mother's fur scarf even more tightly around her head and neck and walked away in the direction of Boots the chemist and Smiths the bookshop.

Boots was sardined with shoppers and so I was glad Mr H had taken on the responsibility of driving mum around the top floor of the bookshop so as I could have a few minutes to myself looking for a red lipstick. I think red lipstick is fab. It's Hollywood, it's a kiss me quick message, it's womanly and painted onto my generous lips it simply says Enter.
Anyway.........I checked and tested then checked and tested again, so much testing infact that my left wrist was awash in various shades of red. I finally plumped for Rimmel's Rose Passion ans Maybelline's Red Passion. The latter, according to the box lasts twenty four hours. Hmmmm...We'll see how it fairs after my lips have dealt with a plate of chicken fried rice.

 After paying up I went to Smiths where I found Mr H and mum hugging/ staggering with armfuls of books and papers. I laughed then went walkabout to see if I could find anything for my friends.
Ten minutes later and several pounds lighter we departed and came home.

It was a good simple day. 
No big money spent, a nice friendly cuppa in a warm steamy cafe and a remarkable mother insistent on living life fully till life exists no more.

:)

Took Mother and Mr Hairy out this morning. We all tootled along the busy shop aisles picking up cinnamon and gingerbread scented candles, clear fairy lights, gas lighter and other low in price yet priceless festive knick-knacks. We had a ball.


Then into see Joan who, despite worrying about her very ill daughter managed to do the double entendre thing with me. My...fluffy balls, metal belts and velvet peep o dresses giving her plenty of material....

We hugged then she left 'cos a taxi was waiting to take her to Tescoes, God I love Joan.


Bought today an Ambrose Bierce anthology, Read some too whilst eating blue cheese. Put fairy lights on tree.

Today In Briefs.

~ In Sainsburys motorized chair got hooked on cardboard box selling  reduced socks. No major damage. Just sniggles from me. Would love to have brought it down...Who me?

~ Pork joint chosen after serious consideration. Could have gone down the beef route but fancied some crackling tonight...

~ The price of rhubarb is horrendous so plumped for a few Bramleys. Will make a cake and apple dumplings. Dumplings dumplings dumplings. Either firm wrapped around an apple or squashy sitting on top of a stew. Any way will do. Love them.


~ Three bags of bread flour. Nothing shop bought compares but one does need to be sensible about these things so into the trolley went a large Hovis. Other baked goods bought were finger rolls reminded me of arthritic fingers. Nice and comfy though for Saturday's franks.

~ Anzak biscuits for Hairy Suit. A little list was dropped into my hand on it...Biscuits. Balm Tissues for his sore conk and mini pepperamis.

~ Camp for drinking and cooking. Dates for cakes and nibbling. Bananas for breakfasts and caramel ice cream boats.

~ Cinnamon disinfectant.




Cooking tonight....Roast Stuffed Pork, peas, jacket potatoes, gravy and apple sauce. Rice pudding and blackcurrant jam with crushed oaty biscuits.

Out and around again today...this time to Rochford  market where I bought some plastic wrapped dates, a pair of men's gloves and a lace bedspread (single). £2
It was the usual thing...
Cold hands and forced laughs.
Mum grumpy. Mr H. stoic and myself lost in mum's world of frequently altered medication, chronic constipation and requests for straw coffins. Mum, you see, is going through a sad painful phase, inhabiting a lonely morbid place where dreams of dad come frequently and hopes of returning to London fading..

I am rung dry.
I've discovered for the umpteenth time that my extensive vocabulary in the rousing the morale area is running out of gas and so I stumble over my words. I get headaches too.
But I bought the bedspread so my capacity for pleasure still thrives.

Later that day.................I drove my good friend the ever so man-in-black Hairy Suit back to his very own abode wherein we played with junior Hairy the12 year old whose capacity for ham sandwiches is very funny.
We didn't play darts or snooker...no not at all. We were an audience for the boy's remarkable acting talent. A natural born mimic. His observational powers, awesome. Made my feeble attempts at showing orf look rather pathetic, but then I'm an old drama queen, and he, just steps away from being a celebrity.
Oh Boy can the lad hold an audience!

And so after a bit of dancing and doing as I was told I hugged the little one then.............

Back home in 'my' Rosie,........... zoomed along did Mr Hairy and I, along dark roads chuffed full of tea time traffic back to the bungalow where a pork and vegetable tea needed to be cooked.
And after a silently eaten meal we decanted warily into the drawing room to watch an Eddie Izzard tape...
He is brilliant so said Hairy, Mr H and myself, mother on the other hand spat sickness fueled vitriol at the dazzling comic.
And that's how life is for me at the moment.
Egg shells are the new carpet.

And so another week ends........
It was a good one in a lot of ways. .I got to play Nurse Horsehound for the ever so bunged up Hairy Suit. The poor darling. Also having my hands laid lightly upon them the ever so grouchy mummy. What I wouldn't give to see her smile now and again. Mind you she's never been one for flashing her teeth nor being hypocritical. No happy, no smile.
Mr Hairy on the other hand puts on the bravest of fronts even though he's bearing a lot of emotional and physical weights. So this week I've gone that extra mile for my good friend. Regarding mum I've been a small sponge for all her unwarranted upsetting outbursts.

As for Mr Horsehound..............he manages to keep his halo set firmly around his head, not by any god or man but by being a remarkable human being/husband/mate with unending perseverance and patience. He plays the long game.
How he does is it is far beyond my limited understanding because at times I can be loathesome.

Tonight's X Factor was predictable. Another noisy flash affair with only one winner. The wonderful James Arthur. I have to say I wasn't committed to him but grew to like him so when Dermot called his name I wasn't too upset. I would loved to have seen young Jahmene crowned but as with all humble troubled people he shone in defeat. Old soul man in young body.

I drove 'my' Rosie tonight. A smart MG convertible, no hiccups not even when changing gears although I did get a bit of a shake-on when roaring over 50mph on the way home...Mr Hairy loved it! Despite my protestations earlier in the day I drove that beautiful car here and there loving every terror filled moment. 
I flew like a pretty crimson bird, wings wide and steady keeping me straight, sublime.

Now I must fly again...Not along dual carriage ways or unlit lanes but to bed where hopefully sleep comes a-quickly...Like a good kiss.

 

Mum is Motorized

..........First of all a brief synopsis of events so far....


Shopping with mum and Mr Horsehound in wet and cold Southend.
Many items bought.
Mum took a few novels from Smiths. All murderous in content. Asked if I wanted any cook books. 'No' I answered with a bag full of Sainsburys biscuits and Lurpak butter hanging orf me arm. I'd done the sensible thing you see and left mother in Mr H's capable hands while I did a zippy quick shop at my favourite store...

Then out into a pretty brutal high street where lots of un-hatted people struggled with umbrellas, kids and mobiles.

We went to Oxfam where mum added an orange suede bag to the basket and where I kept me cash in purse...

This was getting weird. No purchases. Not even a notebook or packet of sweets.

Then into my building society for a business transaction, where, by the door, a book laden table stood..And for a donation of £1 to Cancer Research I bought a copy of 'PAUPERS AND PIG KILLERS' THE DIARY OF WILLIAM HOLLAND. A SOMERSET PARSON 1799-1818.

Then a mercy mission to Boots the chemist for the ever so bad patient Mr Hairy Suit. His shopping list was brief. Decongestant and Excite Body Wash.

Mum let rip at me today, no surprise there but oh it does leave a ghastly bleeding wound. But after a cooling off period in the kitchen where I did what I always do when hurt; sit voiceless, I made her some tea and watched the snooker.

As I type Mr H and Mr Hairy are attaching an expensive 'MOTOR' to mum's wheelchair..

God knows what fun we'll have next week:)

................Wheeling mum around Sainsburys was great. After all... this time last week she was tubed up in hospital being told by doctors that in the event of a cardiac arrest she wouldn't be resuscitated so shopping for chops was fantastic. For her. And me. Because although I'm ageing and generally losing the plot deep down inside the very rich fibre of my being I can't help feeling a sense of achievement at keeping mother alive for soooo long.
I digress.


As we eased our way around passing veg and tins and meats I remembered how very empty my decanter was, which, by the way,  came a cropper last night on account of two men inserting mum's 'new' power assisted armchair into the middle of me drawing room......... anyway...... the pretty decanter went flying! So I thought about it, the decanter that is, and seeing as Christmas will soon be upon us  I thought a big green bottle of Stone's would help me sing.
Then to the in-store chemist where I had a discreet word with Mr Ashibungawang the pharmacist regarding large coverings for mum's intimate irritations.
And then with personal products in bag we toddled to the till where a very ebullient Barbie (55+)waved our stuff over the scanner while talking screechingly cheerily about a lot.  But that was ok because I like Barbie's enthusiasm for life (born again Christian) and her penchant for ruby red lipstick.

Mum needed a rest after Sainsbury' and got it, I needed a rest too and kind of got it.....I'd just tcuked mother in when the doorbell twanged and the ever so incredible Hairy Suit slithered over me dirty doormat carrying a bouquet of orange blooms and 5 jumbo doughnuts.

As mum doesn't want proper food tonight I'm heating up one crumbed chicken breast.
For myself...not a lot, preferring instead to graze on cheese and ginger wine.
Footie on tv tonight so not a big plate of food for the late returning Mr H.
Other crumbed breast probably

..........Before I start making a Chocolate and Vanilla Swirl Cake I must have a word...

Last night's home made Chinese was yummily different on account of an ample amount of celery thrown in at the last moment.
'Twas good on another level too because our house guest the ever so assertive Mr Hairy Suit arrived  on time his pockets bulging with Prawn Toasts and Wontons. These made a  lovely addition to the table.

In fact HE made a lovely addition aswell.

Anyway.......We ate well, the boys especially, mum dived in too only her fork was picking up Penne Cheese as opposed to Macaroni Cheese. I'd made amples of course more than any one person could eat so leftovers were bagged up and taken to work by the ever so agreeable HS.
Back to the Chinese...I slowly scooped mine up with jolly plastic chopsticks not because I wanted or needed to impress but because I eat slowly anyway and twiddling around with sticks aids non-indigestion. You can't wallop it down you see.

Then The X Factor where James Arthur totally convinced me that he could sing anything. Outstanding.
Union J. Love the gay guy's voice. Powerful yet smooth, rather like a pint of ginger wine.
Maloney was stitched up by Barlow because Barlow knew Maloney couldn't do justice do a Buble song. It was pure murder. Especially the final money note. Ugh!
And finally, At Last, Jahmene Douglas, singing the Etta James song better than Etta James and she sang it like she was born singing it. But Jahmene, with his issues and all, gave birth, right there, right then, on stage, in front of millions of people, to a glossy rich career where he'll sing out his damaged soul. My only hope...is that  he keeps a fragment of it...


Roasting a small chicken today and to go with the bird some sweet parsnips, peas and mashed potato. Pudding will be a canned affair. Pears probably.


Now I must get baking a Chocolate and Vanilla Swirl Cake.:)

Cheerio

Is it the Christmas lights I saw late last night on the drive to the station that finally put sparkles into my life or is it something more? Like Love?
A little of both.

After mum's release from hospital we made a deal that from now on she'd do the decent thing and let me go to bed early and in return I'd do everything for her. We've done the deal because we love each other and because we love each other we have to compromise.
And so this morning as we drunk tea together we touched hands in a 'knowing' way.
I know this might be her last Christmas, she knows too. She's also well aware that life is sometimes awful  for me/her what with pills and mess and eating less so she advised me this morning to do everything I want. Cooking. Entertaining. I agreed because if I continue to neglect my hobbies I'll go bonkers. My god-like friend Mr Hairy Suit said he couldn't remember the last time I'd made a loaf of bread. "Neither can I" I said as we sat in my kitchen with it's eclectic mix of styles. Eclectic? Maybe a kind way of saying I can't decide about anything. At any rate I can't remember when I last pounded some dough.

Today I'll lose self by making Nusskuchen, a foreign cake made with hazelnuts, apples, coffee and chocolate. And after our tea of sweet and sour chicken I'll serve thin slices of Nusskuchen on blue plates with whipped cream on the side.



I'll also bake some bread:)


Can't wait to see The X Factor...
Can't wait to watch some Snooker...
Can't wait to bake.