Mr H and and moi took mother to Sainsburys where she loaded her basket with books drink and oaty fancies. I, on the other hand buying only necessities...Ice cream, jam, bleach
Then a slow leisurely drive back to the charity chop in Headingham Place where a delighted Joan commented on my hair.
"It's flicking up now" She gigged
"It's flicking gorgeous" I goofed
From then on we bantered mercilessly.
Her following me from rail to rail offering fashion advice for the smaller lady (that being me) and finally throwing up her hands in uproarinessness when I flung three frocks to the ground saying
"These Mine!"
I adore Joan she's the kind of wacko mum I'd like to have had if....I hadn't filled the womb of my very own little Lilly.
Who by the way has been very honest and open with me today. Our chat over tea and pies about an hour ago refreshed us, making mincemeat out of the yesterday's devillment. We both knew at the end of play last night that something had to be done, the air cleared and a new beginning sought. Today we began again...
Anyway back to today and the charity shop larks....I smashed my purse down on the counter, paid up, kissy kissy with Joan then huddled a very shaky wheelchairless mum out into the sunshine and into the car.
Home to tennis and pie and mash.
I'll be kitchen side very soon...making some kind of cake and a casserole of Chicken Provencale.
Good Things To Look Forward To:
Maudlin Murray v. Barmy Tsonga (tomorrow)
Bakewell Tarts
Friday in general
:)
Thursday, 5 July 2012
Wednesday, 4 July 2012
Another rant
...........Threw myself on my bed after being driven to tears by unjustifiable remarks from mum.
She had been well and truly annoyed and frustrated by the questions from the McMillan nurse. The nurse was simply doing her job. "It wouldn't be wise to go home" and "I feel it'd be beneficial if you attended a day centre where you could meet other people and have good food..." and other lengthy well meaning propositions. Mum shut down. And so did I bit. All this caring stuff is wonderful if you want it, mum doesn't, what mum wants is to live independently in her one bedroomed flat on the sixth floor. That will never happen. And I told her so but not so coldly. Shouldn't have bothered because my gentleness and wisdom was trod upon.
If she hadn't wanted the nurse to visit she should have demanded that I cancel the appointment and by so doing avoid the ensuing shouting match.
The nurse left after a long visit then mum asked for food, beans and bread so I quickly went into the kitchen to prepare it, but because I was texting, she went crazy and stormed out. I felt as if I'd done something wrong. This injustice was more than I could take and left me
wishing more than ever that I could go to a B&B by the seaside......
And not have to do this daily fight.
I love her, wanting only what's best for her, but her heartbreaking yet silly insistence on going back to her flat in London is demolishing our relationship. Her edginess and grief resulting in spitefulness which skins me.
This is my house I told her and I'm doing all in my power to make your life easier, so don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do. I'm 56years old and without a life of my own so I'm not watching the tennis with you. Bloody get on with it.
Five minutes later she was at my bedroom door telling me I was being silly and that Murray had just come on court...
She's asleep on the chair now and I am here in my office exhausted and hungry and my dad's ashes are on the back doorstep and that's that.
I love her but I wish she'd listen to me.
I've given her my home.
She had been well and truly annoyed and frustrated by the questions from the McMillan nurse. The nurse was simply doing her job. "It wouldn't be wise to go home" and "I feel it'd be beneficial if you attended a day centre where you could meet other people and have good food..." and other lengthy well meaning propositions. Mum shut down. And so did I bit. All this caring stuff is wonderful if you want it, mum doesn't, what mum wants is to live independently in her one bedroomed flat on the sixth floor. That will never happen. And I told her so but not so coldly. Shouldn't have bothered because my gentleness and wisdom was trod upon.
If she hadn't wanted the nurse to visit she should have demanded that I cancel the appointment and by so doing avoid the ensuing shouting match.
The nurse left after a long visit then mum asked for food, beans and bread so I quickly went into the kitchen to prepare it, but because I was texting, she went crazy and stormed out. I felt as if I'd done something wrong. This injustice was more than I could take and left me
wishing more than ever that I could go to a B&B by the seaside......
And not have to do this daily fight.
I love her, wanting only what's best for her, but her heartbreaking yet silly insistence on going back to her flat in London is demolishing our relationship. Her edginess and grief resulting in spitefulness which skins me.
This is my house I told her and I'm doing all in my power to make your life easier, so don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do. I'm 56years old and without a life of my own so I'm not watching the tennis with you. Bloody get on with it.
Five minutes later she was at my bedroom door telling me I was being silly and that Murray had just come on court...
She's asleep on the chair now and I am here in my office exhausted and hungry and my dad's ashes are on the back doorstep and that's that.
I love her but I wish she'd listen to me.
I've given her my home.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
Do Not Read If You're Feeling Cheesed Orf...
And so the Scot stomps on.
His next match is against Ferrer, should be worth rushing home to tomorrow. Out and about again with mother. We won't give a hoot about the weather or being swallowed by a giant octopus or being kidnapped by gangs on the look out for old women who look capable of doing light housekeeping duties either abroad or in Bradford.
Hospital appointment today for Mum.
As we waited in Sub room 1 I clocked the faces of people roundabouts. Not one of them beautiful. All were wedge- like, worn, with faces like grey railway tracks. The men wore beige casual trousers or black polyester smarts, neither matching their shirts or age. I hated them. And I hate hating but as women of all ages bounded heavily from room to room (bloods, weight etc) I wondered why, with such atrocious feet they wore open toed-sandals...did nothing for their femininity..... Just reminded me of herds of filthy cattle.
I'm not in the best mood as you can tell.
Blame mum for this.
She's had a poor couple of days and I can't sit down.
Anyway the appt. went according to plan, no horrid surprises so out we went into the drizzle and home to tea and a little company.
My mate Reg was there so I had someone else to care about, someone with whom I can share thoughts and recipes.
Reg is alright.
Murray and Cilic larked about, Murray eventually dismissing giant Cilic and now bitches into the next round with Ferrer, who I've already mentioned.
Repeating myself?
I'm tiredy wiredy I suppose.
Very early start............ with mum crying into her weetabix because she feels 'low' and me looking for belts so her trousers stay up. Blow this.
But we did what we had to do and felt better for it. Feeling better is all matters. Mum is now on antibiotics for a 'chest infection'. Damn it all, it's not a legitimate chest infection, the kind you or I might pick up on the bus it's another symptom of all her growing all multiplying cancer pals. Coughing constantly being the main tell tale.
Crazed hyper active schizophrenic cancer cells running all over her they are. Popping up here there and every where...
Her GP knew it and so did I.
Blah blah my dear hope the weather gets better. Here take these.
I am so frustrated I feel like running away to the kitchen where mum now sits, her slight body angled towards the the dusty old tv where Wonderful Wimbledon plays on.
"It's not the same this year Ang"
she said earlier her eyes somewhere else other than on me
I could do nothing but agree...
I'm opening a can of corned beef for us tea and making miniature plum crumbles for afters.
:)
His next match is against Ferrer, should be worth rushing home to tomorrow. Out and about again with mother. We won't give a hoot about the weather or being swallowed by a giant octopus or being kidnapped by gangs on the look out for old women who look capable of doing light housekeeping duties either abroad or in Bradford.
Hospital appointment today for Mum.
As we waited in Sub room 1 I clocked the faces of people roundabouts. Not one of them beautiful. All were wedge- like, worn, with faces like grey railway tracks. The men wore beige casual trousers or black polyester smarts, neither matching their shirts or age. I hated them. And I hate hating but as women of all ages bounded heavily from room to room (bloods, weight etc) I wondered why, with such atrocious feet they wore open toed-sandals...did nothing for their femininity..... Just reminded me of herds of filthy cattle.
I'm not in the best mood as you can tell.
Blame mum for this.
She's had a poor couple of days and I can't sit down.
Anyway the appt. went according to plan, no horrid surprises so out we went into the drizzle and home to tea and a little company.
My mate Reg was there so I had someone else to care about, someone with whom I can share thoughts and recipes.
Reg is alright.
Murray and Cilic larked about, Murray eventually dismissing giant Cilic and now bitches into the next round with Ferrer, who I've already mentioned.
Repeating myself?
I'm tiredy wiredy I suppose.
Very early start............ with mum crying into her weetabix because she feels 'low' and me looking for belts so her trousers stay up. Blow this.
But we did what we had to do and felt better for it. Feeling better is all matters. Mum is now on antibiotics for a 'chest infection'. Damn it all, it's not a legitimate chest infection, the kind you or I might pick up on the bus it's another symptom of all her growing all multiplying cancer pals. Coughing constantly being the main tell tale.
Crazed hyper active schizophrenic cancer cells running all over her they are. Popping up here there and every where...
Her GP knew it and so did I.
Blah blah my dear hope the weather gets better. Here take these.
I am so frustrated I feel like running away to the kitchen where mum now sits, her slight body angled towards the the dusty old tv where Wonderful Wimbledon plays on.
"It's not the same this year Ang"
she said earlier her eyes somewhere else other than on me
I could do nothing but agree...
I'm opening a can of corned beef for us tea and making miniature plum crumbles for afters.
:)
Monday, 2 July 2012
Ooops!
Italy smashed to bits by super Spain.
Good game though.
Goal after goal from probably the best Spain team ever.
Italy were whacked.
As mum and me watched I wished of course that England had been on the field but I fear we're destined to be quarter-finalists for ever more.
Having said that though Team England and all that goes with them gave me a couple of weeks of loveable acceptable madness.
Talking of which......Second out on Court Numero Uno...Murray. Today his opponent is..Cilic, the man player involved in the second longest ever match at Wimbledon....Murray said he was 'nervous' meeting Bhagdatis, well heaven knows how he'll feel when he shakes his weeny racket at Mighty Cilic.
Therefore............. this morning I'll be dashing around the bungalow killing germs then dashing to docs with mum then speeding up the hill to post office.
This is the effect good sport has on me.
Now I must.............Dash
Good luck Andy!
Italy smashed to bits by super Spain.
Good game though.
Goal after goal from probably the best Spain team ever.
Italy were whacked.
As mum and me watched I wished of course that England had been on the field but I fear we're destined to be quarter-finalists for ever more.
Having said that though Team England and all that goes with them gave me a couple of weeks of loveable acceptable madness.
Talking of which......Second out on Court Numero Uno...Murray. Today his opponent is..Cilic, the man player involved in the second longest ever match at Wimbledon....Murray said he was 'nervous' meeting Bhagdatis, well heaven knows how he'll feel when he shakes his weeny racket at Mighty Cilic.
Therefore............. this morning I'll be dashing around the bungalow killing germs then dashing to docs with mum then speeding up the hill to post office.
This is the effect good sport has on me.
Now I must.............Dash
Good luck Andy!
Sunday, 1 July 2012
Flowers and a Chicken
Chicken golden and skin crisping, fat sizzling, all's well in the pan.
Chocolate Swiss Roll cooling and as soon as it's cooled will be made plumper with orange curd and whipped cream. A dusting of icing sugar/cocoa mix will gild the lily.
Oaty apple crumble perched on cold gas ring waiting to be put into oven.
.......Popped to Four Acres buying 2 Marguerittes and 3 Nemesia. Young bridal white and young sunshine yellow sitting so well together under old Japanese Maple.
10 Lavender plants stiffening youthfully. Will wait till after puberty to plant into final positions.
Chaos in the front garden as miniature white roses get mugged by unknown yellow weeds. Can't bring myself to pull them from the ground because they are so pretty. Roses aren't the only flora that deserve adoration.
I've lost weight.
Not much, just enough so my body fits into a clingy size 10 mint green sparkly dress with shoestring straps.
Mum is perky.
Final of Euro 2012 tonight. The tournament came and is now going. Us, us as usual, limping through the National Anthem and then limping out of the tournament.
Not fussed either way regarding tonight's outcome......... like Italian leather goods, art and would dearly love to visit Rome.
Spain, a mixture of paella, chips, loud Brits and cruel bull fights:(
Prefer the Italians to win....
So mum and I will be watching the match with interest and cake:)
Mr H going walkabout.
(Last night's Murray/Bhagdatis match was fab, the lights were on and the roof worked, Murray going on to clinch it just after 11 pm.
I love big exciting occasions and last night on centre court was all that!
Now, this afternoon, I'm all warm..... waiting............ for the second week to commence.
Chocolate Swiss Roll cooling and as soon as it's cooled will be made plumper with orange curd and whipped cream. A dusting of icing sugar/cocoa mix will gild the lily.
Oaty apple crumble perched on cold gas ring waiting to be put into oven.
.......Popped to Four Acres buying 2 Marguerittes and 3 Nemesia. Young bridal white and young sunshine yellow sitting so well together under old Japanese Maple.
10 Lavender plants stiffening youthfully. Will wait till after puberty to plant into final positions.
Chaos in the front garden as miniature white roses get mugged by unknown yellow weeds. Can't bring myself to pull them from the ground because they are so pretty. Roses aren't the only flora that deserve adoration.
I've lost weight.
Not much, just enough so my body fits into a clingy size 10 mint green sparkly dress with shoestring straps.
Mum is perky.
Final of Euro 2012 tonight. The tournament came and is now going. Us, us as usual, limping through the National Anthem and then limping out of the tournament.
Not fussed either way regarding tonight's outcome......... like Italian leather goods, art and would dearly love to visit Rome.
Spain, a mixture of paella, chips, loud Brits and cruel bull fights:(
Prefer the Italians to win....
So mum and I will be watching the match with interest and cake:)
Mr H going walkabout.
(Last night's Murray/Bhagdatis match was fab, the lights were on and the roof worked, Murray going on to clinch it just after 11 pm.
I love big exciting occasions and last night on centre court was all that!
Now, this afternoon, I'm all warm..... waiting............ for the second week to commence.
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