Two weeks to homeward journey preparations

I have just had a lunch of low-calorie vegetable soup, a brown finger roll and a bar of chocolate marzipan. I must start ironing and continue cleaning. Most of the packing is done. We leave circa 5 am tomorrow. I  have just read on Facebook that the snow fell low on the Alpes-Maritimes last night. I am wondering how our journey on the Route Napoleon will be on Saturday. We must shop when we arrive in Vence. We are taking a few groceries but most shops close on Sundays in France.

I like the apartment we have in France but I am happiest of all here in this little market town. We have a very pleasant, roomy flat in a central location with easy access to everything we need. We have got to know a lot of people. We were overwhelmed by the number of people who came to our daughter's funeral last year. Dan is vice-chairman of the Probus club and chairman of the bridge club. He plays petanque and shoots clay pigeons. We are happy here and I am always glad to return. On Thursday May 4 I shall wake up, shower and have breakfast and then put the suitcase on our bed. I shall start packing, just as I do here for the outward journey. Around midday we shall walk into the town and have lunch at La Regence. It will be another early night. This is the day I shall  be looking forward to; I shall  be fretting to come home, albeit silently, from Monday of that week.

The journey is a long one. When I have had my second vitrectomy I shall offer to do some of the driving to and from Dover. I drive so seldom now. I have renewed my driving licence and I think that my vision is good enough apart from the floaters. Dan is not a patient passenger so I like to leave the job to him. I do not drive fast enough to please him and I am nervous about overtaking. I think that perhaps we shall go out into the country together and I shall practise a little while before I start driving on town roads and motorways.  

Tomorrow night we shall stay at the Ibis Hotel in Besançon, the town where Victor Hugo was born. It is a fortified city and has a lot of history. I would like one day to stay a few days and look around. We have tried a lot of different towns and hotels for our stay-over, but this hotel and this town are what we like best. The restaurant is very good. The only problem we ever encounter is sometimes at breakfast time. There are coachloads of oriental people. They are not Japanese; those people are very polite and besides. one cannot mistake a Japanese face. If we do not go down to breakfast very early these travellers appropriate all the food. They take petits pains and croissants, yogurts and fruit and put them in their travelling bags. The restaurant and kitchen staff are very kind to us and bring us food. It does not always happen. The latest in the year we have stayed at Besançon was in  2015. We had delayed our trip because Katy had an oophorectomy on September 26. She stayed with us for two weeks after the operation. We came home in early November. The day we left Vence we drove up into the mountains and parked in the square in Castellane as usual. Everything was closed and shuttered; it was cold and misty. We travelled on and had lunch at the Courtepaille near Voiron. I doubt that we shall drive down that late in the year again.

Yesterday we visited Dan's father. He is very confused; dementia is gaining a hold on his mind. He is incontinent now. Dan found him some snooker to watch on the television and we had a cup of tea because there was fresh milk. The house is dirty. We still feel Elizabeth's absence greatly. I tried to make him understand what caused Katy's death but he is very deaf and will not use a hearing aid. He will not long remember what I said anyway.

I must email the manager of Steep House to let her know that we shall be away. I have reminded her of our cell phone numbers. I am still smarting from the television business. I know that is petty and foolish but I would have expected the woman to familiarise herself with my uncle's state of health before suggesting that I bring in a television for him. I shall bring the carers the usual large box of biscuits. I know they like their sweet things to eat in their tea breaks. In the last few years I have provided a lot of those.

Impatience and Guilt

Today I finally had my hair cut and styled. The blonde, agreeable-looking woman is called Kate and she charges less than my last stylist. There are no tip boxes so that saved another five pounds. I am also very pleased with the cut she gave me. Before going out I changed the bed linen and did three lots of washing. I have started to pack the suitcase and my overnight bag. I shall have to charge both of my mobile phones before I leave. Tomorrow I have the charity shop in the morning and we must visit Dan's aged father-in-law in the afternoon.  The only appointment on Thursday is to have my eyebrows waxed. The rest of the day will be spent ironing, packing and cleaning. We shall go to Wetherspoon's for supper. The Red Lion is a pleasant old coaching inn and is the last place I had a meal with my daughter.

I visited the nursing home today. There was a staff meeting in progress. I had to go to the desk of the sour-faced receptionist to find a pen in order to sign myself in. I took jam doughnuts and chocolate and made tea as usual. The old man was awake; I sat for a while outside because his door was closed and I thought the staff were changing him. Then I knocked and went in. He ate a little jam doughnut and complained that his tea had no sugar. I had put a little sugar in but went to get more. He drank a little tea but kept asking me to take the cup away; I finally did and put it on the tray. He would not stop asking me to remove the cup that was leaking into his  bed. I am usually patient but today I could not cope with it. I shouted at him. This was a shameful thing to do and I knew it, but it was more than I could bear. I am tired of this; I am tired of visiting him. I am tired of doing battle with the nursing home management about the shoddy workmanship of the lazy handyman. I am tired of senile dementia and incontinence. My son is lucky that he has abandoned his parents. He will not have to look after us when we are old and demented. He will get nothing when we die unless we both die while we own the French flat.

When we turn seventy in June holiday insurance will become substantially more expensive. I suppose that this is understandable. We shall also be leaving the European Union. Our Denplan membership covers our teeth.  I know that such insurance is vital. We are both fit and healthy but old age is encroaching. Next year we shall have our last expensive holiday when we celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. These holidays have been every five years since 1993, when we went on the Orient Express for our silver wedding. I wonder if we shall see our diamond anniversary; we shall be eighty-one if so. I have been married longer than any of my three older brothers. The middle one has been married forty years to his second wife. The eldest one had a silver wedding anniversary with his first wife; the next year they were divorced and he finally married the woman with whom he had been living part of the time since 1972. The youngest one's longest marriage was from 1989 until 2006, although it was an on-and-off marriage the last three years. Two of husband's siblings, despite being brought up as Roman Catholics, have also been divorced. The eldest of the three sisters separated from her husband after twenty years. The youngest of the three boys has been divorced twice. I wonder what my pious, narrow-minded mother-in-law would have had to say about that. The second of the girls has been married nearly twenty-eight years. She could not be married in church because the man she married had been divorced twice. However, her husband was welcomed because she was a single mother. The second boy, Kevin, died just before his seventeenth wedding anniversary.  He drank a solvent containing cyanide. He had a degree in biochemistry, although it took him six years to get it.

I am tired; time for bed.

Memories and preparations

It is a week since I made an entry in this blog. It has been a fairly busy time. Both mornings in the charity shop there were few staff members. I have not phoned the dentist but I did make a hair appointment with the agreeable looking blonde woman in the downstairs hair salon. We shopped in Havant again and on Good Friday morning we walked with our WFH group. It was good to see the bluebells and wild garlic on the other side of the A272. The weather was pleasant although there was a cold edge to the wind.

I miss my daughter so much at Easter. Three years ago she stayed with us for the Easter weekend because she was so ill. We went to her flat on Maundy Thursday and called the paramedics; Katy was in bed and could not eat or easily walk. On the following Tuesday we took her to her doctor who telephoned the Queen Alexandra hospital and arranged for her to be admitted. She did not want to go; she burst into tears and cried that she hated going to hospital. We took her to medical assessment and they put her on oxygen straight away. The following day she was transferred to the respiratory ward where she stayed for three weeks. At one point it was feared that she had lymphoma. She came to stay with us for the weekend after she was discharged from hospital. Fortunately the lymphoma tests came back negative; it was just a particularly severe infection that sent her lymph system into overdrive.

Tomorrow I shall start getting things ready for our holiday. I want to change the bed linen before we leave and have as much done as possible. I shall not feel like housework for a day or two after my eye operation and shall not visit my aged uncle on the Tuesday afternoon.  We saw him yesterday and he ate a cream slice and some chocolate buttons. I have got over the resentment I felt over his niece telephoning the manager of the home about a television set that would be no use to him. I am sure that she and her daughter meant well and were just thoughtless. She would not remember the article from the Daily Mail that she sent me. It was about surgery for age-related macular degeneration. Mr McLean, consultant ophthalmologist, opined that it would not be suitable for him, partly because of his age and because it would probably not be successful anyway. The manager of the home wants me to see her about a "care plan". I am mystified about this; the residents' needs are obvious and the fees are steep. Surely no planning should be necessary over and above the routine organisation of such an establishment. The present manager is not too bad. The excellent Marion Flett left a few years ago. Her successor, one Tracy Katterns, was not up to the job and I made many complaints to the head office because of problems. It is so tiring, forever complaining. The present receptionist is sour-faced and unhelpful, although not as obnoxious as the person who worked for the dreadful Katterns.

I am still taking Co-codamol to help me sleep. I still do not want to get up in the mornings but I always do. I keep going. I have been alone behind the till at the charity shop the last two mornings I was there; Ethel was not well again. On Wednesday there were few members of staff there again. I coped; I enjoy the work. I suppose that it is necessary for me to do this or I shall become a complete recluse. I am rather relieved that my intolerance of spectacle correction does not allow me to play bridge now; I doubt that I could put up with the politics of the bridge club and I could not  meet the exacting standards of some of the people we know. It was my idea to learn and the benefits for Dan have been immense. He has made many friends and has new activities. It was because of the people we met playing bridge that he joined the Probus Club. His chairmanship of the residents' association her in our block of flats led to his playing petanque twice a week. I am glad for him; I am not much company some times. I enjoy the walks but I am being excluded now from the tougher ones with our friends. I cannot  manage the hills so easily.  I spend those Sundays alone unless someone is free to collect me and take me to lunch at whatever pub they have decided to visit for lunch. I do not mind this. I can catch up on domestic chores and listen to my IPod or watch an old film on television. The Sunday walks will begin again in June.

A brief taste of spring weather.

It is a beautiful Spring day. Later we are going to friends for a drink and I shall take a cardigan for the walk home. Our friends have a very "indoors is outdoors" garden and they have been cleaning it today and will have put the cushions out on the sofas and chairs.  We have happy memories of our daughter in this garden. Jeff and Sabine liked Katy and were very kind to her. When she came out of hospital in 2014 and her lymphoma tests came back negative, they gave a barbecue in her honour. She was fond of them, too. The picture is of a winter evening in their house when we sat in front of their wood-burning stove and put our feet up. They are very much outdoor people. I enjoy being outdoors but like just as much to be inside; I love my iPod the way I loved reading books when I was able to do so. I am not a very sociable person.

Tomorrow I must bite the proverbial bullet and find a hairdresser and make an appointment for a cut and blow-dry. I have not had my hair done since January; I cancelled my last appointment because it was so soon after the vitrectomy. I wasn't pleased with the last two cuts with the stylist I've had for a few years so I am going to have a change. I have difficult hair; thick, double crown and cow-licks and a strong natural wave. I am beginning to look like Medusa. The hairdresser on the ground floor of this building has changed hands and I have noticed a very pleasant-looking stylist doing the hair of a woman older than myself. I shall give her a try, or at least show her the pictures of my hair how I want it and see if she will take me on.

I have the charity shop tomorrow and hope that Ethel will be there. We get on well and enjoy working together. I have not seen the authoritarian Gordon for some weeks. First thing Tuesday I am going to phone the dentist. A back molar has been twinging for some time and feels worse now. I am off to France soon and when I come back I cannot have a dental abscess because the eye surgeon will not operate if I do. Dan can drop me at the dentist and I shall get the bus back; I quite enjoy the bus ride. I don't make enough use of my free national bus pass and it is a wonderful thing to have.  I may drive again after the second vitrectomy but it is not a thing I enjoy doing. I learned to drive because I was going back to live in the USA and had to think of my daughter's needs. It's hard to be a non-driver there.

Yesterday I had to look out my old diaries so that I could find some Internet information in one of them. I looked at the diary for 2012 and found that it was on January 29 that the falling out with my son happened. It was such a trivial thing; something I wanted to buy for him to which he took exception. I have tried to apologise but he refuses to believe that I am sincere. It cannot be helped. I shall always miss him. In the last message that I sent him I wished him well but I suppose that he will choose to disbelieve that as well.

Old men forget and all shall be forgot

The weather  has been beautiful. Yesterday we went on a walk with our Walk for Health group and it was warm and sunny. There are wood anemones, bluebells and still some daffodils, although these are now looking a little tired. We saw an egret with a fish on he millstream. It flew away from the lily pads and up into a tree when we drew near. I agreed with the leader of the walk that we are all so lucky to live where we do. I am glad that we joined this group and not the Wednesday one that meets in the centre of the town. The walks are prettier and the group is growing. There were thirty-two walkers yesterday.

Today is my son's birthday; he is forty-one. I cannot send him a card or a present because I do not know where he is and in any case, it would be futile. He would take the money and not send a message of thanks. I miss him. On Thursday it was a year since Katy's funeral. I still miss her just as much. The picture is my favourite one of my children. We still have Dobbin, the rocking horse. He is made of New Hampshire white pine and we bought him at the Dutchess County Fair in 1978. One day I shall give Dobbin to a new baby, the son or daughter of one of my great-nieces or nephews. When we moved from our house to this flat I sent a text to Neil, who was living in the midlands,

I have a new laptop and my husband is just transferring all the necessary data to it.  I spend far too much time on the computer and often make a resolution not to do that. We shall be in France soon where we have no broadband. Using Facebook on a mobile phone is too stressful to my eyes so I have to go without. I keep busy cleaning and doing laundry so I don't miss it too much. I shall have my two iPods, one for fiction books and one for non-fiction for entertainment. We also have films on DVD and download to watch in the evenings.

It is nearly time for the nursing home. I have obtained the necessary cakes and put the chocolate I keep for the old man into the bag. We have to buy eggs before we go there; we still go back to the village where we used to live for free-range eggs from a local farm. Tomorrow we shall go to the house of friends for drinks.

We have just returned from our excursion. The old man remembered us today and ate about half of the jam doughnut I acquired from Waitrose. He wanted chocolate mostly and tucked into brown and white chocolate buttons.  His room has been painted and the two pictures I brought from his house were put back in the wrong place. When I went to change them I found that the picture hooks had not been taken from the wall and replaced when the paint was dry. They had been painted over and the pictures replaced while the paint was still wet. The electrical sockets were not removed while the painting was done. This is slipshod work; next time I am sent a questionnaire about the home I shall comment upon all of this. I must let the manager of the home know that we shall be away soon. If all goes according to plan we shall be in France in two weeks' time.

I wonder if my son is celebrating his birthday.  I do not know if he is working, if he is lonely or has everything that he needs. He is not a materialistic person.  He loves his record collection and little else. I shall always love him; at least, I suppose I shall while I am cogent. When I am old and senile (if I live that long) I shall no longer remember my two children. When my executor or other person clears out the flat will they throw all the old photos away? Will there be nothing left of my family?

I have my new laptop computer but Outlook will not work on it. I have checked on my favourites, made sure of the passwords and installed the buttons for my most-used sites. Dan will contact BT and sort out the email. It is the warmest day tomorrow but then it will be colder again.

Rehabilitation

I am tired and planning an early night. It was a busy morning at the charity shop and once again I was on my own behind the counter. I have not seen the man called Gordon for some weeks and I understood from the manager that he would be working with me on Wednesday mornings. There was Judith, the manager, present and a young black man called Jamie. A volunteer called Ryan also came in. There was a spate of donations, some of them very interesting, and we sold a lot of goods too.

A few week or so after Jamie started I heard Judith talking to Jamie about having his licence extended. I wondered if he has recently been convicted of something. Today I answered the phone and it was a man from Ford Prison, asking how Jamie was doing. The call was not very clear and I repeated the name of the prison. I regret that; fortunately the young man was not nearby. Judith took the phone and I could hear her telling the caller how well Jamie is doing with us.  I handed the phone over and went on working.

Last  year we had a talk at the Probus Club from a woman who used to volunteer at Parkhurst Prison in the days of Reggie Kray and Fred Sewell. It was the most interesting, amusing and moving talk I have ever heard. I am a great John Mortimer fan and know his views on the Victorian monstrosities in which prisoners are incarcerated. Margaret Thatcher cut down on education in prisons and there is far too much illiteracy. Jane, for that is her name, did her best to interest prisoners in education and learning a trade. Life is hard for anyone with a criminal record.  My son has one; he was convicted of wounding without intent and carrying an offensive weapon in July 2013. This was what led to our estrangement, although I never upbraided him.

One night a young woman friend of Neil's was having trouble with her violent ex-boyfriend, who was already known to the police. Neil offered to walk her home and when they were accosted by Ryan Gibbs, he flagged down a police car. Thereafter Gibbs assaulted Neil every time he saw him. In July 2011 Neil was walking back to his flat from the station and Gibbs assaulted him outside Marks and Spencer. Neil went home, took a knife to defend himself with and went out again to buy himself food for his evening meal. He encountered Gibbs and told him to leave him alone; if not, he would stab him. Gibbs nutted Neil and was stabbed. Dan and I were planning to go out that night and I looked out and saw a police car blocking one side of the street. Dan came in and said there was police tape around The Square. We went out and had a meal in a restaurant opposite Neil's flat. This was a Wednesday night. On Saturday one or our neighbours asked after Neil; she had seen the report on the Internet. He had been charged with wounding with intent and carrying an offensive weapon. As a result he was suspended from his job. I gave him a key to our flat and fed him and did his laundry. In January 2012 he quarrelled with me; why, I never knew. We argued at Winchester Crown Court in April and he sent me nasty emails. Gibbs never came to the trial. The day we walked with friends up Snowdon, May 28th 2013,   Neil was at Portsmouth Crown Court and Gibbs had not shown up yet again. Neil's barrister asked the Recorder who was presiding to issue a witness summons. This was done but the police found that Gibbs had disappeared. Neil changed his plea to wounding without intent and carrying an offensive weapon. I found this out by Googling my son; I had seen him in the town that day and decided to do that. His barrister phoned me and told me that, although a custodial sentence was on the cards, it was not inevitable. In July he emailed to tell me that Neil had received a suspended sentence of eighteen months and had been ordered to do unpaid work. This he did in the Cancer Research shop in the town. He had to leave his flat because of non-payment of rent; he came to our flat asking for money  but his father refused. He wrote me a cruel, hurtful letter. When his sister died he did not come to her funeral. I think that then I gave up hope of any reconciliation.

I hope that Jamie gets a permanent job, puts his past behind him and does as well as possible in life. One should not pay for mistakes for ever.

Chrysanthemums and chocolate éclairs.

Today we had a visitor. My Auntie Ruby came to lunch. Father-in-law was going to come too, but is unwell. Ruby is an honorary aunt really; she was married to my father's brother and he died in 1954. Ruby remarried and her husband was absorbed into our family. I still look upon her as an aunt and she has been there all of my life. She is ninety-one now and getting frail.  She is a very gregarious person and has always been busy and active. Her husband died three years ago and I suppose that this death came into the "merciful release" category. He was suffering from vascular dementia and she was struggling to cope. Ruby attends the church where Dan's stepmother was parish clerk and she knew her and also got to know my father-in-law when he started attending St Mark's with Elizabeth.

I showed Ruby pictures on my computer of various family members. It was then that I noticed that she is somewhat deaf and also a little confused. Several times I had to explain who the people in the pictures are; some of them she has not seen for decades and they are dead now. However, she saw my niece and her husband at Katy's funeral, just a year ago. She was interested in the children and the house. Ruby has always been an animal lover; I remember two cats she had when I was very young. They were tabbies and their names were Chinky and Tiger.

We had a roast today, as we always do for father-in-law. It was lamb; when we saw him on his birthday he was going out for a meal with Dan's sister Teresa and her husband. He wanted lamb and said that he always arrives too late for it. It was a very good joint that we had today. Ruby and I had a chocolate éclair each for pudding. I did not drink wine; I have to go to the charity shop tomorrow and I can never tell how I shall react to alcohol nowadays.

Ruby brought my brother's new address. He moved house last year but did not send a Christmas card to us with this information. He is living in the village where Dan and I started our married life. We lived there until 1975.  When my ancient uncle finally dies I must give him the two Sydney Vale FRSA paintings that are in old Bill's room at Steep House. My aunt promised him all the paintings by this artist. I do not care for them.  I am executor of my uncle's will; I have a feeling that this may be a thankless task. I wonder how many of Bill's own relatives will come to his funeral. I shall go with cards of the partner who will be seeing his will through probate. If any of the Ratcliffe and other families ask about the will I shall tell them the truth; it all goes to charity. The first beneficiary is dead so the Hospital for Sick Children will get anything that is left. If this raises a protest I shall give the protester a card and tell him or her to consult a solicitor and Jarndyce v Jarndyce it out.

Next Sunday the forecast is for sunny spells and temperatures up to 14° Celsius. We may walk with our friends and have lunch at a pub. I would like to take one of my iPods and listen to a good book on the way but Dan thinks this is anti-social. I am becoming more and more withdrawn. The heartache is always there; I have "moved on" as the cliché has it, but the sadness and regret have come with me. I want my daughter back and no one can give her to me. I shall always miss her. I enjoy the walks, although very steep hills are too much for me now. When I give up volunteering we shall go on longer walks with the Walk For Health group. We belong to the Sheet group and meet up on Friday mornings.  After the walk, which lasts for about an hour, we have coffee and biscuits at the pub, the Half Moon. That is where the Probus club meetings are held.

I must now finish tidying up and get my clothes ready for the morning. I hate getting out of bed; I could just stay there, hiding from the world and listening to audio books. In three weeks; time, if all goes according to plan, we shall be in Vence. There is Easter to be got through meanwhile. It would mean so much if my son would get in touch but reason and experience tell me that this will not happen. Perhaps one day I shall feel as if I never had a son.

I have to cut the stems of the chrysanthemums that Ruby brought for me, rearrange the daffodils that I always have in spring and then arrange the new flowers in vases.