Updated

Mum is being silly.
By refusing to pay the rent on her flat. This came about on Tuesday when in a pale sick rage she told me she wasn't doing it.
'Oh no' I thought as I collected her pension I now have one more thing to be concerned about. The letter from the council will surely drop on the mat and it'll be down to me to deal with it.
Am I being a beast?
To put a stop to this worry I secretly paid her rent via a loan from Hairy Suit who will be reimbursed today via my carer's allowance.
Mother's tacky tentacles stretch ever more into my life. Around my heart. I'm wondering how much more empathy is left.
She's my responsibility yet when it comes up in general conversation she barks that she is capable of running her life, her finances. No dear, not any more.
What happens next Monday when her rent is due again I dread to think.

But today it's sunny and nicely warm so we're off to finger flick the rails in charity shops in Southend.
Hairy Suit playing chauffeur.
But me, I'm holding onto my pennies.
Mum can do whatever she likes. She usually does.


Mum took to the bed and has stayed there all day. So it was with a heavy heart Hairy and myself set off to the seaside in search of bargains.

After a look in Oxfam we meandered our way past a couple of singing inebriated guys to set foot in the YMCA shop (next to the dentist) and I'm so glad we did.
Because within its badly decorated space I found two fab bags. One of dubious plasticity for mum and one  vintage rose coloured leather beauty. Simply stunning. Old and a bit faded. But mouthwateringly handsome all the same. And at just £2.99 both Hairy Suit and I were happy little shoppers.

Back home to a sleeping mummy where even the whiff of a McDonald's hamburger didn't excite her. But as Hairy and myself drank our tea watching some great snooker mum gently handled her new bag and nibbled on a Morrisons custard tart.

Oh, in the YMCA shop I also picked up a big fat brown faux leather notebook/diary/shopping list book. A kind of poor mans Filofax Originally from Smiths and in spankingly good condition, a real steal at £2.99. And as Mark Selby potted effortlessly and Ali Carter grimaced I jotted down a few lines of too infrequent verse...

Publish tomorrow. 

Now back into the front room to eventually watch but immediately listen to O'Sullivan beating up gentleman Joe Perry.
Listening to on account of having my back to the screen as I wash Mother's sores.