Cheese and onion quiche, rosti, salad
I woke up to an absolutely revolting morning, a stiff wind whipping torrents of rain at all four sides of the house. Mum remembered I was going out and started applying the guilt trips: “can’t you just stay here with me?”
Watching the rain streaming down the windows, I had to admit I was briefly tempted.
But I braved the sog and went off to view a flat. In short: it’s nearly perfect. Out in the countryside, with views of the boats on the river, but only about a mile from the town centre along the riverside footpath. All-new bathroom and kitchen, multiple double-width doors to get my mobility scooter inside, and shiny wooden floors that will be great fun for Suki to chase a toy fish across.
The only concern I had was when the landlord asked to do all the paperwork privately, by email, rather than through a proper property portal. With suitable assurances from the building manager, though, I’m happy it’s not a scam – which was my first concern – and I will be submitting my application tomorrow. Fingers tightly crossed I get it, and don’t have to continue my home search with the added complication of having something so good to compare everything else to.
On the way home, I asked the taxi driver to stop at Marks & Spencer, where I bought knickers, socks, chocolate muffins (a bribe for mum), and a Mexican bean and sweet potato wrap. I cannot describe just how good that wrap, full of things that mum would “urgh” at (kidney beans! Sweet potato! Chillies! Sour cream!), tasted.
This afternoon we were waiting for Lady Friday to turn up, but a knock on the door produced a new carer who we’ve never met before. It is a good thing for the agency that supplies the respite carers that my trip out this morning left me exhausted and in pain, as it saved them another complaint about their failure to communicate with me. It’s not that I object to having a different carer occasionally, but would it kill them to warn me in advance?
Thankfully, the new carer got on well with mum, and mum agreed to go out with her for a drive. I could have done all sorts of things with my free 90 minutes, but all I did was play games on my laptop and try not to fall asleep.
Dinner was the ready-made stuff I fall back on when I’m exhausted – this time a crustless cheese and onion quiche (from Tesco, absolutely delicious, mum wasn’t keen so I ate most of it) with potato rosti and salad.
Mum is in perma-complaint mode about her lichen sclerosus this evening, which is difficult for me because I really feel for her but, at the same time, don’t need her to tell me every two minutes that it hasn’t improved yet. The new pair of soft fabric trousers I bought for her, in the hope they would be more comfortable than her usual jeans, have disappeared into thin air, having never been worn.
Tomorrow she has a follow-up appointment with a gynaecologist, and I can tell that she’s genuinely miserable by the lack of protest about going to the hospital. I don’t expect she will be as accepting tomorrow, but that’s a problem for after a decent night’s sleep.
I will hope to dream of yachts, and silence, and Suki sliding across the wooden floor like a furry curling stone.
And on that delightful mental image, goodnight.
