Roast chicken, Yorkies, veg

Not much to report today except an endlessly rotating roster of complaints from mum: her head hurts, her back hurts, it’s raining, it’s too bright, there’s nothing on tv, the programme that is on tv has been running for too long, her head hurts, her stomach hurts…

I have counted to ten so many times that I must be heading towards the millennium mark by now.

At one point this afternoon, mum declared that, as there was nothing in television, and as she was ‘not able’ to do anything else, she might as well go to sleep. That is my cue to reassure mum that she’s still perfectly capable, and that there are lots of things she could do other than watching television, but I decided I was just too tired so I said “OK, mum, see you later”.

Thankfully, by the time mum woke up an hour or so later, she had forgotten that she was cross with me because I had failed to play the game correctly.

That was around the time I had to start cooking dinner, as bone-in chicken takes considerably longer to cook than boneless. Only after it was in the oven and starting to smell like dinner did I remember that I had bought a ready-to-cook chicken joint for this exact purpose.

Oh well: it means I have cooked chicken to use for dinner tomorrow night, as I have the first part of a ‘dealing with dementia’ training course over in Newport. I am, of course, not telling mum that’s where I’m going, as I don’t want to have to deal with the “I’m just a stupid old woman, you’re abandoning me, I’m sorry I’m such a burden” guilt trip that would result.

So, if mum asks, I’m going to do some work stuff, very boring, no-one she knows, I’ll be back in time to cook dinner.

And if that sounds like I’m very tired and very fed-up, you would be entirely correct.