Roasted Mediterranean veg, falafel, feta, and hummus

This morning I woke up to a house silent except for the “brrr-ow?” of a pleased-for-company Suki. For the next half hour I sat on the edge of my bed, ignoring my need for the bathroom, stroking Suki and trying not to make any noise that might awaken mum and start the complain train.

Of course, eventually I had to give in and go to the loo, and mum woke up.

Most of the rest of the day was spent listening to mum complaining about it being too bright and too hot: me pointing out that that’s what happens in summer didn’t exactly help. My failure to make the world duller and cooler definitely didn’t help. As usual, she stubbornly refused almost all of my offers of ways to cool herself off, and she slept through much of the afternoon, stirring only to weakly enquire whether I would help her.

I have noticed before that mum becomes more dementia-y in hot weather: she’s more confused and more fretful, asking when she can go home and if it will get darker tonight. I can feel sympathy for her and feel immensely irritated by the whining, both at the same time.

Yesterday’s marathon outing has left me with high levels of residual exhaustion, and my patience hasn’t been what it should. We got through the day, though, with help – in my case – from my new double-walled thermal cup, which kept my homemade iced oatmilk latte so cold that, three hours after making it, I could crunch the remaining ice cubes. (And I do love crunching ice cubes: they’re the best bit of summer drinks, imo.)

This afternoon, I managed to tempt mum out of her stuffy bedroom den with the promise of a Brit playing at Wimbledon¹. Not far into the match, mum reported a stomachache, which triggered a short-lived but intense panic attack. The phone appointment with the Memory Service can’t come soon enough.

For dinner I did one of mum’s favourites, roasted Mediterranean veg and “those white cubes” (mum “doesn’t like” feta, so I just don’t tell her that’s what she’s eating), with chips and salad for mum, and with falafel and hummus for me. Mum ate hers, despite being bitterly disappointed that I had failed to magically replace her favourite salad dressing since yesterday.

And so to another evening. I might go and find something sweet to eat in a minute, if mum has left anything. See you tomorrow, everyone.

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1. Very well done Arthur. Shame I only got to watch the first set, as mum changed the channel after that, but I’ll watch you in the semis. I hoped. ↩︎