Sorry I haven’t posted, my Dad’s ill, i’m drinking too much and I’m now at my Mums house in the damp and cold of the upstairs room, my old bedroom complete with a bunch of Smurfs and Disney Encyclopaedias. Guaranteed I will fall asleep toinight and wake up in exactly the same position as its so fucking chilly here, to move is to waste energy and to move to a cold part of the bed is a situation I have avaided since they bought this house 36 years ago, roughly. The original dream house, loved by my folks, old and quirky which suited their 1980’s style, and guess what its still old but no longer quirky, its potantially a prison for my Dad, if he ever gets out of the stroke ward, his luminescence dulled by the hypnotic rotten routine of getting out of bed and into a chair to get prodded and then back into the bed to get prodded. He’s in the best place, God bells the NHS, but now I am experiencing the same that thousands did playing out on the telly during the pandemic; relatives waving in through the same windows which the elderly licked. Its a shitty and really sad situation and I am desperately trying to get the dream team back togather M&J, this is probably the longest they’ve been apart for decades. Dad is slowly fossilising in hospital and Mum is seemingly quite relaxed at home, in between bouts of repetition and relentless tidying up and opening and closing curtains and asking if i’m too hot or too cold, I’m unlikely to scorch myself in front of the fan heater.
If I could suggest something it would be not to grow old in difficulty, there are ways to adapt to your various ailments, a little bit of planning, etc etc. And I bet My Dad said exactly the same thing when he saw his parents crumble and fall apart in front of his eyes. They took the least preferred option, they moved to a brand new bungalow and had 10 good years there, they grew a vine which produced grapes for heavens sake. Yep the bell is tolling for change in B House, and its not going to be any fun wrapping it up.