An hour after penning last night's poem Mum fainted. Time Midnight.

And as she lay grey in the hall I knew I had to act.

So jump forward 45 minutes and a big Paramedic kneeling checking mum's everything. On the mobile he went 'asking' for an ambulance.
Asking?
Yes. Asking. Apparently a computer is fed information which determines the level of urgency. When the big man told us this I worried about my mum and the country and the NHS.

He was gentle, quiet and very capable, and Mr H and I felt safe in his hands.
Mum knew very little.

And so as he spoke into his phone I reassured mum that all this nonsense was for the best.

3 hours later an ambulance arrived.
Obviously the computer thinking that turning from pink to grey and enduring shocking arm pain didn't warrant sirens. So on the carpet she stayed

The two ambulance men one old, one young checked mum over talking ever so slightly down to her, which by the way, angered me but I suppose they have their way and meant well. So I let it be and bit my tongue. Then into the ambulance we went. It was chilly black and damp and all I wanted to do was to call a stop to the proceedings and go back inside. But sense prevailed and we tootled off.

As we travelled the senior paramedic told of his 2000 + call outs in 24 hours.
Stumped toes, heart attacks and drunks. Stumped toes? Yes he said.
As mum lay wrapped like a Russian doll.
Idiots.

She was wheeled in to a busy but not overly noisy A & E and there we waited and waited. Finally seeing a Doctor 3 hours later.

No need to go on with this is there?
Tests. Keeping her in. Question after bloody question. And the same ones hours later only this time by a nurse.
Mum being the war horse she is told us to go. So after 8 hours of fumbling about on carpets and ugly hard chairs Mr H and I finally got home.

Bed and toast at 9:30 am never looking so fine.

Visited this afternoon, she looked glassy probably weapon grade painkillers and no food so I chased after Staff Nurse Godfrey introducing myself and making him very aware of my concerns. He was calm and looked a little surprised at my eloquence.
We parted sweetly with smiles on both sides.

So back home to beef sandwiches, cat love and a recorded programme about the Space Shuttle.
Sounded pretty good to me...

:)

Affection

I love the warmth of genuine affection
affection which needs no prompting
that unfurls
uncurls
in the soft hues of this late Christmas night

This night, ribboned with tales of childhood love
we're tied together,
my mother and I
ignited by excited needy tongues
I scatter blue veined talk into the ear of my dear one

and into mine, dropped fragment by fragment,
fractured sentences
love of all sorts being the subject

Words are many though, shot out like bullets
their aim, the heart

And riddled like spent lovers we fall on bloodless Christmas cushions
dreaming of the men we love...


Angela x

Kauto STAR

• Races: 40
• 1st: 23
• 2nd: 7
• 3rd: 4
• Unplaced: 6

And he won the King George VI AGAIN today. A record Fifth Win for the much loved horse. I am blubbing as I type.

But.

Happy for him and his trainer but as sick as an old Mother 'cos I allowed my emotions to get the better of me.

Bugger.

Taking of Mother she has been a real worry today, had me and Mr H. in a dilemma of huge proportions as the three of us huddled together over the bathroom sink I begged her gently to let me 'get help'. She said no.

So we carried her, nearly knocking pictures off me hall wall, into the front room, where she dozed like a gin soaked old biddy.

Might as well have drunk the evil buttermilk I thought, being a tea- totaller hasn't aided her innards any.

Bugger.

On a lighter note.

With a blanket over me legs I watched two episodes of The Professionals whilst turning the pages of a Baking Book whilst putting on Crimson lipstick whilst texting whilst drinking lukewarm tea whilst checking Mother's breathing patterns whilst wondering about small handbag friendly notebooks whilst my tum knocked.

So............. Bravo Kauto and Hello Leftover Beef:)

The Horse Tipped Me Over

Kauto Star

Long Run

BBC website. A photo of Kauto Star, one of dad's favourite race horses. And as I looked I cried and cried. Soppy mare.
That's me, of course, not the horse. Kauto is a Gelding.

All this time it's taken for the flood gates to open and what brought it about? A super horse. And a super dad.
Bugger.

11 year old Kauto is running this afternoon in the King George VI at Kempton against another of Dad's fav's, Long Run. Both swelling his coffers. Therefore mine too....:)

A royal battle till the last fence I expect and one which dad AND mum would have built their day around if, of course, they were still an item.

I asked mum if she'd like a bet (Corals only down the road) she said No.
I thought I'd stroll along and have a tickle but decided I'd rather gallop away from hurt by watching cop shows.

Highlight of the Jump season... and what am I doing watching Bodie's arse.
Bugger.

Nothing new on my back and only pennies in my sack

to sleepland I long to go.

Goodnight All.

2 Yorkshire Tea Breads
1 Victoria Sponge
8 Fluffy Dumplings
3 Mum scents
1 Yellow trifle
70 Dolly Mixtures
1 Phone call
3 Text messages
6 Legitimate Drugs
1 Chicken Casserole
and a Sony Telly in a pear tree:)


And on that joyous note I must make haste.

There'll be no more... until all the food is gone:)

Have a Wonderful time!

GLORIA!

YIPPEE!

I'm fluffed and chuffed because I'll soon be opening all my presents. (2)

I'm also feeling whizzo on account of watching Rocky V last night. What a fabtastic film that was. (not)
Old Rocky knocking every kind of bell out of young gun Tommy Gunn. Didn't like his hair anyway. Stinker. But the film aided my drooping spirits.. so bless you Sly.
And while I watched, mum swallowed a few Dolly Mixtures.
And Mr H. overdid it on the M & M's. His only pleasure.

And then BED. I hid under covers imagining I was tucked in a snow bound hut somewhere North of London. And a spitting fire warmed my small toes.And a man of unusually high height and breadth boomed over me waving a cat o' nine tails asking if I wanted to play...
Then...Monty jumped me, pressing so hard on my booboos I thought they'd explode. No silicone splash though. LOL! Just a few dents.
But bless his heart I suppose he just needed reassurance after all he's finding the 'extra' person in the bungalow a little difficult to deal with. So for comfort, he mugs his mum:)

Today, after I've packed Her safely in the settee, (don't want the old bonebag diving headlong into the coffee table) I'll grab a quick breakfast and do the one thing that pleasures me baby....Cooking!
Prob. make some pukka Irish Soda Bread, Apricot trifle for tomorrow and a few spicy fruity buns. Then prepare tonight's tea. For Mr H and I a Nasi Gorenge and for Mother...I don't know, probably a little chickeny thing.

So m'dears now I must fly. Have a whole lotta loving to do:)

By the way Mr H has just left the bungalow, he's off to town to buy stuff..Present no; 3 perhaps...