Fried courgettes, mozzarella with pesto, focaccia

Maybe because she was out with Lady Friday yesterday, but mum has been better today. That’s not to say she’s been good – just better.

I used the peace, such as it was, to finish proofreading the cookbook, then to start the rather involved process of setting up my Kindle seller’s account to actually sell the book.

I ordered some incontinence liners for mum, as the ‘standard’ panty liners she’s currently using aren’t doing the job. On Monday I will call the GP to try to arrange for a visit from a nurse, as mum has never had problems staying dry before and it’s mildly concerning that it’s suddenly an issue. “I’ll call them on Monday” has been today’s mantra.

I contacted three lettings agents, and have a viewing for a flat in Cowes arranged for Monday evening. I am also in conversation with the owner of a flat in Freshwater, so we’ll see how that works out.

I’m honestly not sure how I’m feeling about moving out, now it’s going from a dream to an imminent reality.

I know mum and I are mostly just rubbing each other the wrong way, and I know that moving out will give me the opportunity to work and socialise, and I know Suki will almost definitely be happier. But.

The guilt is strong. So is the dread of having to acquire all the things I will need to live alone, from furniture to appliances to cutlery, having lost all I already owned when I had to give up my old flat. So is the thought of having to get everything in place to enable me to live independently: regular carers, a cleaner, transport, benefits, a job…

The temptation to take the path of least resistance and just stay here is strong, at least until mum feebly says “you will help me, won’t you?” for the dozenth time today, and I have to resist the urge to scream, or cry, or both.

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For dinner I did pan-fried courgette ribbons, dressed with reduced balsamic vinegar and olive oil. I served it with mozzarella pearls in pesto, which mum didn’t like (who doesn’t like mozzarella? It’s about as inoffensive as cheese gets!), and some focaccia.

Now it’s athletics until I can go and lie down and hug my tabby teddy bear, and do my usual ostrich impression (i.e. I don’t want to think about it!).