Aubergine parmigiana with crusty bread / peach cobbler and ice cream

Thank you to everyone who suggested questions for the social prescriber. Sadly, none of them got answered because, when I asked for support with things like getting the washing machine fixed, she responded with an incredulous tone “I’m from the NHS. I don’t do household repairs”.

The third time she dismissed my questions, my tree pollen allergy got the better of me and my eyes started running. That is what happened, and I wasn’t crying. Honest.

Anyway, we came away from the meeting with referrals to a couple of charities (both of which I already know of, but nvm), the passing of my number to the handyman husband of another staff member at the GP practice (it’s amazing to me how much Island society runs on a ‘who you know’ basis), and a message to be sent to the council about sorting out the rail on the front step, which our neighbour has to keep tightening with a spanner before it falls off the step completely. [Geez, that’s a long sentence!]

Several times this evening, mum has commented on how nice our visitor was. I can’t say I agree, but at least mum is happy. 🤷‍♂️

---

Mum has today developed a frustrating new habit: she asks me a question then, when I start to answer, panics and tells me not to tell her as she’ll “just get confused”. This presents an interesting paradox: how do you answer a question when you’re specifically told not to answer it?

It’s on a par with the common mum paradox: if a person says there’s “nothing to eat” while eating a cheese sandwich, is there or is there not food? And if tomorrow, when the grocery delivery arrives and mum complains that there’s “too much here”, is it or is it not swearing if I only do it in my head?

This afternoon I intended to use the overripe bananas from the back of the fruit bowl to make my favourite banana cake, and made the mistake of telling mum of my plan. When I discovered that we didn’t have enough oil to make the cake, I accidentally triggered a mum panic: “but what will we eat?”

Only the promise of aubergine parmigiana (a mum favourite, despite her vociferous dislike of tomatoes), followed by peach cobbler and ice cream, could placate the “there’s no food!” emergency state.

The cobbler actually turned out to be more of an overly sweet sponge, but that suited mum. She has never been an adventurous eater, and the Alzheimer’s has reduced her palate to mostly responding to sweet, sweet, and more sweet. Although I can’t really criticise, as I ate just as much of the cobbler-cake. 😳

---

One small matter of housekeeping (literally and metaphorically): the third appliance repair company I contacted did actually respond, and referred me back to the first company I tried. I decided to give them one more try, emailing rather than phoning, and this time got a response. They’re coming round on Wednesday, although not without a few quips about how far they’ll have to travel to get here.

I have commented before on the weird sense of distance possessed by people on the Island, so I won’t do more here than note it. You can picture me shaking my head if you want.

---

And so, as always, goodnight. Tomorrow we may or may not test whether or not a blog exists if the blogger sleeps all day and doesn’t write anything. Just saying. 🤷‍♂️