Cost of living crisis, lying politicians and politicians who lie, politicians with integrity and those with precious little. Putin has gone officially mental in the Kremlin, hemmed in by Yes men and women all of who fear possibly for their lives and all the while the energy bills sore, by 54% they said, whoever the hell they are, but the truth is, and its a small section of the population, but my Mums bills are set to rise to £8k per year! Which is officially insane and despite having lost Dad in December she refuses to see this as being a problem, more of an inconvenience that she will have to dive into the pot of lifetime savings so as she can stay in this drafty old house, their dream home as was, but now, its a maker of new and lonely memories as she slowly descends into life on her own, a singleton with no tinder fun on the horizon, friends sure, but one by one they peg out, and sadness and funeral chat manifests.

Many tears have been shed although not in my presence by my Mum, she talks about her friends losing their husbands and being very teary on the phone. Well thats to be expected isn’t it? I sometimes wish she could shift from the stiff upper lip of yesteryear and leap into the emotional soup of today. We would love Mum to be warmer towards the kids, to do more than give them £20 here and there, we don’t want your money, we just want your love.

How strange getting old is to different folks, but to unravel a lifetime of bottled up emotions will take another lifetime, of time that we don’t have. I worry for Mum in the big house, rattling around, talking to herself, she tells me the same story over and over, the one about the telly programme on the York Minster, the one about friends at the funeral, the one about the man in the car park. Sad.