Homemade pizza / fish with ricotta and breadcrumbs, with salad

Evening all. Apologies for the lack of post yesterday: I simply forgot until it was rather too late to do anything about it. Sorry.

So here’s a recap of the past couple of days:

Yesterday we had a visit for a rep from Carers Isle of Wight. She was lovely, and mum and I enjoyed her visit very much. She left me with contact details of various places who can help in an emergency, and an application form for a carer’s wristband I can wear when I go out so that, if anything were to happen to me, emergency services would know that there’s a vulnerable person at home who also needs assistance.

She also put me down for the next available session of a course about working with people with dementia (not that we yet know that mum has dementia – and if she does it’s an atypical version – but the principles will be the same), and will be passing my contact details to someone who can help with advertising for a PA who can stay with mum while I go out. This is very much needed as it has now been at least a month, probably two, since I had any time alone, and longer still since I had more than a couple of hours alone.

Dinner was homemade pizza, albeit made with ready-made dough and sauce: once I would have made it completely from scratch, but such a thing is sadly beyond me now.

Today we had a major step forward: mum went out for lunch with me and a family friend. She was quite anxious and felt unwell beforehand, but she decided she was going to go anyway, which is very admirable. I may have got a touch over-excited to have a conversation which didn’t go in circles and talked far too much, but the friend did her part by repeatedly telling me of all the things I need to do “as a priority”. As if I don’t feel stressed enough already.

She also made a comment about there being a need for someone to “take responsibility for” mum every time she goes anywhere, which rubbed me the wrong way. Yes, mum struggles with her memory, and anxiety makes her a bit panicky at times, she’s not yet at a stage where she needs to be managed like a small child. Or at least I don’t think so.

(I forgot to take a photo of my lunch – a BLT sandwich – so here’s some flowers outside the café instead.)

This afternoon I made appointments for mum and myself to get our hair cut. I hate getting my hair cut, but months of being too weak to deal with my waist-length, thick, wavy hair have left it an irreparable matted mess, so being rid of it will be a pleasure.

I then claimed back a decent wodge of over-paid tax from HMRC, or at least I tried to. In order to claim my money, I had to update my registration on the government website with my personal details and national insurance number, download an app, take a photo of both sides of my driving licence, then groan at a “please try again” message. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts I gave up, so for the time being my money remains in the hands of the UK government.

For dinner I went quick and simple: white fish fillets topped with ricotta flavoured with garlic, herbs and seasoning, and some panko breadcrumbs, and then baked in the oven until the fish flaked when prodded with a knife. Served with salad (and a piece of pizza leftover from yesterday), it was very pleasant. Afterwards I had cheapy strawberry trifle from Tesco – cheap because it has no actual strawberries, only flavouring, it turns out – and enjoyed (and continue to enjoy) the action of the fan we got cheap from Tesco last year. With it, the living room is a tolerable 27.5° – I hope everyone reading from the UK is coping as well.

(For those from a hotter climate: I know 27° isn’t that hot, but remember most UK homes don’t AC, only old-fashioned rotary fans. That makes it feel at least 5° hotter.)