Driving back from the station after dropping orf Mr Horsehound the familiar sound of Mother's wheelchair bumping in the back woke me up.
It's going to be a good day I thought as I steered Alex the Micra along almost deserted roads.


Mum and me will amble out sometime after breakfast, probably wearing sunglasses, definitely on our way to Spa Road, Hockley.
Another Monday. More politeness with strangers. More weaving around the tanned able bodied. More bric-a-brac I expect.

Late last night I rearranged the conservatory furniture, yesterday afternoon I had tea and biscuits with Hairy Suits ma and pa. And whilst being shown around their garden of delights a beautiful piece of gammon was braising in my oven.

I've missed writing poetry.


Now I must dawdle.

Heat

This fabulous weather hasn't deterred me from cooking..

Madeleines
Lemon Cake
Rock Cakes
Lemon Curd Pudding
Mocha Cake
and the most gorgeous of all....
Raspberry Cream Swiss Roll. A regular Swiss Roll filled with whipped double cream sweetened with a little icing sugar, raspberry jam and fresh raspberries from outside my kitchen window..





Savoury too..
A Cheese Scone
Pork with homemade sage and onion relish
Bolognaise with tagliatelle
Spaghetti with sausagemeat sauce
Chicken risotto
Mince and Courgette Bake

Cooking is healing.
Cooking is showing how much I love people
Cooking is good.

Silver Linings

Clothes still on the line...Getting a second rinse
Mother asleep...Time for a slow shower
Another day...Good
 

Another Royal born...



Being cooked today

Mince and Courgette Bake
Potatoes
Peas

Apple Crumble

Chalked on my blackboard today is

Excellent pork snorkers, thickly sliced lean back bacon (from farm shop) scrambled eggs, tomatoes, hash browns and French bread.
And for pud...Lemon Curd pudding and custard.

Waiting to be baked..
A dozen English Madeleines.

I love the heat!

Mum woozy, Mr Horsehound drooping.
Me making the most of every moment.

Took mum on the Grand Tour this morning starting off with Rochford and tea and toasted teacake in the Beehive Tearoom
Then a slow drive to Hockley where I bought chintzey crockery and a good as new blackboard.
Mum stuck to spotted blouses and magazines.

Drove home like a winner, stopping for the elderly, thumbs up to white van man for letting me go first (disabled badge helps) mum in sunglasses, and me ultra cool in cotton African motif dress. Did have a major womanly moment though as we waited at the lights under the railway bridge. I didn't feel particularly ethnic so why the zebra outfit. I put it down to dryness, you know...menopause.

In one of the charity shops we visited there was a Bargain Box...everything 20p. Or UNDER. With mum's brakes fully on, (I think) I stooped over, on the pavement, to have a rummage..... An owl spoon holder, cute blue floral pot with lid and wooden triptych depicting faces of a religious bent. Happily handing over 60p to Eileen, I stuffed the goodies in my handbag, and orf we went.

Today's Menu will be chalked up on the blackboard just like they do in the Beehive Tearoom...
We'll be eating....Chick Pea Pasties, mashed potatoes, fruity chutney and peas.

Talking of gorgeous.
Last night's Meatloaf was fabulous.
I'll post the recipe tomorrow. 

Now I must fly...I have trinkets to rearrange, pasties to make and the kitchen table needs moving and tarting up.

Nearly time for my Ploughman's lunch. White bread, a few slivers of Cheddar, some squishy Brie and a warm red apple. To drink, probably milk.
Resting on the chair dreaming, eyes wandering slowly from open window to sill from sill down to blue tea plate I'll have a daydream...bright green fields, cold lemon tea, toes pointing skywards. A sudden breeze, the noise of an unknown bird scratching around on a branch. And in the long distance made eerie by hazy heat the sound of nothing at all.
The heat, almost intolerable.

I had a phone call last night.
The soft voiced receptionist at the surgery nervously informing me that Dr R at the hospital spoke with GP telling him that dialysis for mum won't take place. On account of her multitude of cancers. The poor woman having to do the deed was flustered and apologetic.
After hanging up I was angry that a non medical person was telling me about my mum and NOT a doctor, mum's doctor. So after taking Mr Horsehound's advice to 'sleep on it', I washed the dishes, half watched a film and went to bed for what was to be an almost sleepless night. Mother of course didn't know anything.

Early this morning I phoned the surgery.

When I eventually got a call back from the GP I asked him why he let an office person tell me the news that mum won't be treated for kidney failure after all.
He apologised often and loudly saying more than once that he was not an insensitive man and that he had made a mistake and that HE should have called me. Busy he said...
I didn't continue the chat preferring instead to accept his many apologies and hang up..
I'd told him how shocked, angry and disappointed I'd felt, that was enough.

Mum's legs let her down this morning, literally.
A bump and yell and I found her prostrate halfway between the hall and front room. It's a terrible sight seeing someone on their back when there's really no need, when I got her vertical her little yelps of pain cut through my hardened shell.
"Come on you" I joked dragging her to the bathroom.
Seriously ... it's no joke, and funnily enough caring for the feisty bean gives me strength, Figure that one out please because I can't.

I drove to the chemist for prescriptions, picked up the haul of drugs, then into the sweet shop for a Fry's Peppermint Cream.
My head thick with hunger and tiredness but it didn't stop me chattering to Nikki on the till, her false tan and eyelashes are amazing, her jokes abysmal. But she represents normality. Kind of.

Anyway back home and mum's attempt to walk to conservatory for a change of scene.
All well and good I thought till it came to lifting her up orf the two seater red and cream checked sofa to take her back inside.
Oh dear. The bag of bones slipped around........ unable to stand unaided I ended up needing to remove her slippers and jimjam bottoms. Better look and twat than break a shin.
We groped our way out of the boiling conservatory tip toeing our way through the equally hot kitchen ending up in the carpetted hall where her body became unstuffed. I mean she couldn't put one purple foot in front of the other.
After several reassurances that I wouldn't drop her I carried the cursing patient to her bed.
And that's where she'll remain until tomorrow when, she said, she'll be going shopping!
The human spirit, her will to carry on is astounding.
I feel alright now:)

Dancing In Morrisons

Was the only way I could express my joy at being out and about for 90 minutes without mum. God I'm not being cruel am I? I asked her if she wanted to come shopping with Mr Horsehound and myself but she said no. So we left the bungalow and strode to the car. She hasn't been well since the weekend only venturing out on Monday to Hockley  that's why I thought she'd like a trip out. But no, she was going to sleep she said.

I've worn my throat dry reading aloud the contents of two newspapers, I've worried about her face and the lumps in her back which are causing her pain, I've smashed plates in frustration. Her unwillingness to see a doctor is tantamount to self-harm.

But lives go on...

In Mo's place I couldn't help but move to the piped pop music, a male shelf filler asking Mr Horsehound what I was on! And could he have some please. Mr H cracked a joke as always while I trolleyed some Fruit and Fibre.  Dancing was/ is my way of expressing lust for life. It was not and is not a perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire. Well not with supermarket employees anyways.

I loved talking to Mike the butcher about the shoulder pork joint I was thinking of buying, our conversation being ordinary, quite mediocre chit chat, about prices and animal welfare. After a few minutes he bagged the pig and I went away.

Then, by the bread, I jigged some more, this time to Girls Aloud's Love Machine. Old Harry stacking the shelves said it was ok to dance as long as I didn't sing, because then I'd definitely be shown the exit.
I smiled swaying my hips in a moderately capable manner. He grinned shaking his head. I love spreading happiness.

By this time Mr Horsehound was wishing he was somewhere else, back in his office  I expect, his only real place of interest.
I continued to engage with both employees and customers enjoying not having to keep me tongue between me lips as so often happens when out with Mother, She regards my interaction with ordinary people as false and annoying.Oh but it's not dear, it's me.
Today though I was buzzing. Hell, it was hot and I was doing my best on all fronts, I was letting loose the life  inside, the life whereby I join in, happily revelling in social intercourse, dancing in Morrisons.