Four cheese ravioli with arrabiata sauce
Today was the one day this week that I didn’t need to be up early, and I was looking forward to a lie-in. Just after 8am, while trying to knock Imperial Stormtroopers off an Escher staircase with a spiralised sword that had turned into a giant Flump (marshmallow) sweet1, I instead knocked my bedside lamp over for the dozenth time.
I picked it up, reassured mum I was fine, and dozed off, only to be re-woken by a phone call from a well-known optical company that people should have gone to, confirming that they’re coming to us tomorrow morning. For reasons I don’t pretend to understand, the contract for mobile opticians in this part of the Isle of Wight is held not by the Island-based franchise but by the one in Bournemouth. I guess it’s a nice day out for the staff if the weather cooperates, anyway.
By that time I was awake so I got up, got dressed, got mum her meds, and then mum went back to sleep while I (feeling slightly guilty) enjoyed a rare quiet hour or so with my book. By the time mum got up again, I was busy doing next week’s meal plan and grocery order, so mum came and sat on my bed and watched me do it.
I’m not sure what has prompted this new extreme clinginess from mum, where she has to be in the same room whenever possible, but it’s majorly getting on my nerves. Give a person a bit of space, please!
This afternoon there was a knock on the door and the lay preacher from mum’s church appeared, full of apologies for not visiting before. I offered to go and sit in my room to give them privacy to talk, but mum insisted I stay. After a while, when he heard how little time mum (and me, for that matter) spend outside the house, he offered to take mum out for a drive. Mum, of course, insisted I go too.
I sat in the front passenger seat as I find it much easier to get in and out there, which gave the preacher and I space to talk about mum’s condition, as she couldn’t hear our conversation from the back seat. I told him much of what y’all already know: that I spent three months in hospital last year, came home to care for mum with little to no support, and have been struggling along pretty much alone ever since. I nearly cried just because I’m so tired and, while in his company, I wasn’t coping alone for a short time.
I don’t think I was imagining that he looked rather embarrassed that no-one from the church, except our one friend with the dog, had even contacted us. At one point he said something about people being keen to see mum, then corrected himself with a muttered “of course, if they really wanted to see her they could have visited”. Then he started thinking out loud how he can arrange regular outings with mum so I can have a bit of time alone.
We went over to the (rather fancy) café at Isle of Wight Pearl, where mum had a cup of tea, the preacher a cup of plain coffee, and me an oat milk flat white and a slice of dense but light chocolate cake. I very much liked the preacher man, until he complained about the “thudding music”: Blue Monday by New Order (a stone cold classic, as I pointed out).
For dinner, I went for the classic no-effort dinner, pasta and sauce. Mum turned up nose at the sauce – “I don’t like the red things” (tomatoes) – but obviously saw the expression on my face and ate it anyway.
Now it’s tv and listening to the rain for a couple of hours until it’s time to sleep. Then we do it all again tomorrow. Yay.
- Where does my dreaming brain get this nonsense?! ↩︎
Is it pineapple sponge today? 