Ploughman’s tart and salad

Today we went out and had lunch in Yarmouth, which sounds straightforward but was, of course, anything but when mum’s anxiety is taken into account.

Mum spent the morning pacing, clutching her head and stomach, looping on “will it be OK?” and crying “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me”. It was horrible for her, and heartbreaking for me.

I called the Memory Service to ask when we might expect some much-needed help, and was told that mum is booked in for a telephone appointment with an dementia prescribing expert (that’s not her job title, but it’s a decent description of what she does), and we should shortly get a letter confirming when this will be. I was so pleased with this news that I forgot to ask for this information, so all I can do for now is wait for the letter.

Anyway, we got out, had lunch at PO41 Coffee House – still excellent coffee, food decent but not great on this occasion – during which mum complained about her head hurting, her chest hurting, her sandwich was too big, her cake (which she chose) wasn’t what she wanted, she was too hot, and anything else that crossed her mind. She did say the tea was good, though, so well done PO41 for breaking one part of the complaint sequence.

Then we went to my favourite shop in the world, Reflections, which sells sparkly things, and pretty rocks, and fossils, and similar things that I like very much. I bought myself a new pair of earrings – silver, with a (real) turquoise bead – and mum a suncatcher in the shape of a cat sitting on a crescent moon.

Then we stopped to buy some fruit, as mum had complained (quite accurately for once) that the bananas we had at home weren’t very nice, then got a ride home. En route to our pick-up point, we passed a shop selling various things intended for people richer than me (of which there are many in Yarmouth during sailing season), including footstools in the shape of sheep, covered in sheepskin.

I cannot tell you how much I want the opportunity to use a sheep as a footstool, even if I will have to save up a fair chunk of change to get one. (Although considerably less if I buy one online, where they are, I have just discovered, over £100 cheaper than buying in town. 😲)

By the time we got home I was utterly exhausted – walking with crutches and balance issues is hard – and just wanted to lie down in peace for a while.

Of course, mum wanted me to put up her suncatcher, then wanted me to help with her new mouthwash, then wanted to show me something in the garden, then just wanted to talk at me. No amount of slow “sorry, I was concentrating” responses or vague “mm” responses stopped mum’s desperate need for me to engage with her.

While preparing dinner I went to sit on my perching stool in the kitchen. When I failed to respond appropriately, mum escalated by physically climbing over me to look out of the kitchen window. She’s lucky I didn’t have one of my super-sharp new knives in my hand!

Dinner was Tesco Finest Ploughman’s Tarts – little quiches, made with cheddar and red leicester cheeses, ham hock, and onion chutney, but somehow tasting of bugger all – with the remains of yesterday’s warm salad (re-cooked so the potatoes were on the right side of firm) and some leaves.

Now it’s tennis (come on Serena!) until either she wins or I fall asleep – no counting sheep-shaped footstools necessary – whichever comes sooner.

See you tomorrow, everyone.