Tempura chicken, Mediterranean veg, zigzag fries

I think mum’s friend Walker might be my new favourite person.

She came round to visit mum this afternoon, and mum regaled her with her usual routine of how nobody loves her, nobody wants to help her, how she’s suffering and she’s sure her only child “will try to help eventually”. I gritted my teeth and tried to pretend I couldn’t hear her.

As Walker was leaving, mum interrupted our departing pleasantries with “I just thought someone might have tried to help me by now, that’s all”. Walker turned to mum and, gently but firmly, told her I was doing my best but these things take time.

Thank you, Walker!

Of course, mum didn’t listen to Walker anymore than she listens to me. The day, both before and after, has been a non-stop litany of complaints.

I went down to the pharmacy late morning to collect mum’s second course of antibiotics, as prescribed by the NHS 111 clinician last night. As I was queuing, this cutie was watching me from the shelf.

Mum has a bit of a thing about koalas, so I had to pick him up and bring him home with me. I handed him to mum along with her first tablet, and mum said, all in one breath, “oh, he’s lovely, I just feel so ill and I keep having to wee”. Then she followed me to my bedroom, abandoning the koala on the sofa.

Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. I don’t know why, or what exactly I was expecting from mum by way of gratitude or recognition. (Koala did later get a few hugs, so he wasn’t entirely unwanted.)

While Walker was here, I got out my laptop and finished the final draft of the cover for my new cookbook. Mum didn’t like me paying attention to something that wasn’t her, and tried everything from repeatedly asking if I like her (“I love you dearly. That’s not always the same thing”, I responded with rare honesty) to making fun of my expression (what are you, six?).

I am currently waiting for dinner to cook while mum complains endlessly about her tooth hurting. With an unusual burst of awareness, she wondered briefly if it was hurting because she had been talking about it with her tried.

Probably, but it’s not making much difference to the looping complaints about how much it hurts.

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For dinner I cooked some tempura chicken tenders, with seasoned zigzag fries. Mum is still eating hers, very slowly because every mouthful of food is interspersed with complaints about… well, everything, really. She’s not even pretending that she’s not guilt-tripping me about going away tomorrow.

She has asked if I’m coming back. I said, again with rare honesty, that I have to come back because Suki is here. Thankfully mum took that as a joke, because I definitely wouldn’t be her favourite person if she realised I meant it.