Chipolatas, crispy potato slices, mixed veg
This morning, after mum’s usual morning dramatics, I told her that I would be going out shortly, and would be back by lunchtime. Well, you would have thought I’d told her I was emigrating to Mars and never coming back.
She screamed and slammed her bedroom door. She sobbed so hard she choked. I was abandoning her. I didn’t love her anymore. Why hadn’t I told her I was leaving her?
Because you react like this, mum.
When this display of excessive grief failed to persuade me to stay – I can’t imagine why – she gathered herself and apologised. It’s just that she loves me so much, and what is she supposed to do without me?
Then she brought out what she probably imagined to be her winning card: what about Suki? As Suki was, unsurprisingly, well hidden under her safety cupboard by then, my answer was a vague shrug – she’ll be fine.
I wrote a note on the whiteboard to remind mum when I would be back, and headed out into a revoltingly soggy day, to Island Mobility. If you’re on the Island and need any kind of mobility equipment, I can strongly recommend these people.
We sat down on the display of riser-recliner chairs and tried out the various kinds. They’re not cheap at around £2000, but they’ll last a good proportion of the rest of my life, and are seriously comfy. I only didn’t order one today because I don’t know where I’m going to be living so don’t yet know what colour fabric to get my chair covered in.
Then we moved onto the scooter part of the store. They have a wide range of mobility scooters, from little pavement ones that pull apart into pieces that fit in a car boot through to ones that can go on the road, or even off it. And that’s where I made my fatal mistake: I looked at the off-road ones first, and fell totally in love with the Scoozy.
These beach buggy-looking scooters can handle fields and hills, tree roots and mud. They even have cruise control. They are also, unsurprisingly, very expensive – best part of six and a half grand for a brand new one, and only about £500 less for an ex-display model. Because they’ve only been on sale for about a year, there aren’t really any second-hand ones about yet.
It stopped pouring long enough for me to take the display model for a quick test drive: up and down a low step, over some unpaved and broken ground, which they keep like that for test drive purposes, round in a few loops, and it handled brilliantly. I really, really want one, but – ouch, that price!
I have tentatively decided that I’m going to try to get a second-hand pavement scooter for now – one of the ones that breaks into pieces, so I could store it anywhere – although I’m not making a final decision on which one until after the property viewing on Friday. The reason for this is that the cheapest recommended model can’t manage hills very well, and Shanklin has a steep hill down to the seafront. If I end up in Shanklin, I’m going to need a slightly more powerful and stable type to get me up and down safely.
Then, when I’m settled in my new home, and have a job to provide some income, I will start saving up for a Scoozy. Maybe by then there will be a few more second-hand ones around. If not… well, who needs money anyway?
When I got home, mum hugged me and sobbed: she had been so scared, and hadn’t known where I was and when I would be back. I reminded her that I had left a note for her. “Oh, I know, I read it,” she said casually.
Drama 1, logic 0.
This afternoon Lady Friday came round. Mum spent last week, when Lady Friday was on leave, asking when she would see her again. Today, with Lady Friday back, mum cried that she didn’t want to see her, and definitely didn’t want to leave the house. Of course, when Lady Friday knocked on the front door, mum greeted her with a smile and a “shall we go out?”
Because the weather was back to being nasty, they didn’t stay out for long, and instead came back to do some tidying in the house. For reasons that escape me, this involved a fair amount of standing in my room watching the rain. That I was in there trying to read bothered neither of them the smallest amount.
Thankfully we had groceries delivered today, so dinner could be of the straight to oven tray variety. Even more thankfully, it’s the sort of meal mum likes.
Now, post dinner, I am at the “I’m going to strangle her” part of the day. I can’t tell if she’s genuinely struggling with remembering what glasses are for or whether she’s just making excuses to drag me back into her orbit every time I step away. Either way, it’s seriously annoying, and I can’t wait for her to decide she’s going to bed so I get some peace.
And so, merrily or not, we scoot along.
