Old age and false alarums

I have just had the medical check-up that seventy year-olds get under the much-maligned National Health Service. My blood sugar level was a little up, my body mass index is good and my blood pressure is fine. My husband came for his check-up at the same time. His BMI is a little more than it should be, but this whole concept is probably going to be reviewed. Muscle weighs more than fat. 

Last weekend Dan went to the Adventure Film Festival from Friday morning to early Sunday evening. I went out on Saturday. I seldom go out on my own but that day I caught the bus from Petersfield Square to Waterlooville precinct and met up with a friend. We lunched and then went to look round the charity shops. I got a very nice Ikea vase for £1. Waterlooville looks very sad nowadays. So many of the shops in the town centre are empty. We reminisced about how it was when we first knew each other, forty-three years ago. We first met in Kingston, New York, where our husbands had been sent on assignment by IBM. I think that we would have become friends no matter how we met. A little more than a year after she and her husband returned to the UK they separated. She nearly remarried twice but is still single and I think wants to remain that way. I went on to have another child and eventually to lose both of my children in different ways. 

On Sunday I should have visited my uncle but did not. I simply could not face it. On Monday evening I had a phone call from Lijo, the manager of the nursing home where he lives. She told me that he was ill and that the doctor had been sent for. There was talk about the old man being taken to hospital. Later the doctor phoned me and confirmed that I had signed a Do Not Resuscitate form. He said that old Bill has pneumonia and there was nothing to be gained by removing him to hospital or administering antibiotics. The nurses had diamorphine to give him if he was in any pain or distress. I telephoned Patricia, Bill's niece and next-of-kin in Swansea. She asked me to let her know as soon as Bill's death happened. Yesterday we visited him and he was awake but not lucid. Today I did my shift in the charity shop and Alex, one of the carers, came in with his wife. They do a lot of shopping in Sue Ryder. He told me that Bill had eaten a good lunch and was getting better. I do not know what to do; should I phone Patricia and let her know this, or just leave things. 

On Friday September 8th we are leaving for Vence. The installation of our kitchen begins the following Monday. I was worrying about how Bill's funeral could be fitted in before we leave; now it seems there will be no funeral. He is not going to die after all. It has been a constant source of anxiety, that he would die while we are abroad. I have planned the music for his funeral but would need Patricia's help for the tribute, which I would get the minister (or celebrant, as they call such non-denominational people nowadays). I have nominated a funeral director; the firm that conducted our daughter's funeral. I have let my youngest brother know about the old man's illness. He is my back up attorney and would manage Bill's affairs in the event of my death or incapacity. He has never visited our uncle-in-law. I resent this as Bill enjoyed masculine company when he was cogent. My aunt was very good to him and it was always understood that he would be her executor.  Why she changed her will is another story. 

Acceptance

I am wearing my new glasses and trying to get used to them. If I cannot manage them by the time we come back from Vence I shall contact my optometrist again and see what else can be done. We shall see.

I quite enjoyed the birthday dinner on Saturday night, although I could not eat some of the food.  It was all very nice but my appetite is shrinking.  My presents are bottles of champagne and Prosecco; I do not know when I shall drink them but I may take the bottle of Taittinger to Shanklin at Christmas if we spend the time with our friends. It is kind of them; Dan always reminds me that it is the thought that counts.

This afternoon I received another cruel and spiteful message from my son. He has finally seen the messages I sent him some months ago, not long after his sister died. I shall not let him know that his grandfather is dead. I have blocked him on Facebook and shall never unblock him. When we were at the Old Radnor Barn I told the proprietress that we had no children; our daughter had died last year. This is what I shall tell strangers in future. I desperately hoped that one day we would be reconciled but must now accept that this will never happen. He is gone. I miss Katy desperately still.

I worked at the charity shop this morning and shall do so again on Wednesday. I am having my hair cut tomorrow and shall go to the nursing home. I shall take a bottle of the Waitrose Prosecco, of which we have several bottles, to give to Sandra as a raffle prize for the summer fete. We shall be back in time for that. We used to take Katy to the fete when Bill was still fit enough to sit outside and have cups of tea and cake. Before she was ill in 2014 she used to visit the old man once a month. She would come up from Havant by train, have lunch at an eatery in the town and then walk up to the nursing home. She really was a truly good person.

Dan is playing bridge tonight and has to be up early tomorrow to take our friends to the airport. I wonder if he will be back in time to play petanque. I shall go to bed early. I am trying to take fewer strong painkillers. I have needed them recently because the eyestrain has affected my neck muscles and this has aggravated the spondylosis in the cervical vertebrae. I am taking paracetamol and ibuprofen. I don't think that the latter is agreeing with me too well.

The Laying Away of the Dead

We have just visited my aged uncle in the nursing home. At first he was completely unresponsive but did finally say that he would like chocolate and a cup of tea. He ate a very little chocolate. We stayed a little longer than usual in the hope that he would wake up and drink some tea and eat more chocolate.  I wonder if he will ever do that again; it seems so sad that he just lives on and has so little pleasure in life. I did not manage a word with Sandra but when I do I shall ask if she can still talk to him.

On Thursday it was my father-in-law's funeral. Although he was Irish and a cradle Catholic, the service was held in the Anglican church where he worshipped with his second wife. We collected my old aunt, who knew Elizabeth and her first husband. She came to Elizabeth's church service. She used to talk to Paddy and Elizabeth in church most Sundays. Aunt Ruby is ninety-one and getting frail after a fall when a bus started jerkily and sent her sprawling. We took her back to her home after the service. Anne, Dan's cousin Philip's wife came for Oxford for the church service and the committal at the crematorium.

It was a good service; the vicar delivered a touching eulogy. One of Paddy's granddaughters who is a musician played You'll Never Walk Alone and the Londonderry Air on the piano. Her mother, who was married to the second eldest son, read a poem by Robert Service. Her second husband was not there; perhaps he did not think it appropriate.  I wonder if the hymn Hail, Glorious Saint Patrick was ever sung in an Anglican church before. The wake was pleasant, although we did not stay long.  Some of the family spoke to me, some did not. I shall never have to see them again; the family entity is broken now that both parents are dead; we were never included in family occasions because of the petty, spiteful grudges borne by my late mother-in-law, her favourite son and his wife.

I am so, so glad that my Aunt Marjorie persuaded Paddy to join the over-sixties club. He met Elizabeth there and that was a wonderful thing. I have happy memories of Christmases at our house in Clanfield and here in Petersfield. They would go to the morning service at the local church and after our Christmas dinner I would light the fire in the living room and we would watch television and snooze. Katy loved having her grandparents to stay at Christmas. She used to tell darling Elizabeth that she loved her like a real grandma. Neil was fond of her too. He does not yet know that his grandfather is dead.

I must shower and put on fresh clothes soon. I wonder when the phone will ring and it will be someone at Steep House to tell me that old Bill is dead.

I saw the optometrist today and took a pair of old glasses with me; at least, I have had them for a few years but have never been able to wear them. He gave me a very low prescription which I hope will help my poor  brain cope with the new clarity of vision; Andrew M told me that I now have a perfect camera. He has not yet heard from Optegra about the second vitrectomy because the surgeon's secretaries have been ill and on holiday. We shall see.

Tonight we are going out with our friends to a local restaurant to celebrate our birthdays. Dan will be seventy tomorrow and I shall attain that age the following Sunday. I bought Dan three polo shirts in Crew Clothing for his present; I am having extra audible.co.uk credits. Next Saturday Dan and I will have been together for fifty years. He came to my twentieth birthday party, walking back into my life with a bus ticket in his mouth and a crate of brown ale in his hands. We have been together ever since and will have been married forty-nine years in October.

Another June

We arrived home yesterday afternoon after a very pleasant break. We had a good journey to Hay-on-Wye last Friday and found our bed and breakfast accommodation quite easily. We are very pleased with the Old Radnor Barn and have booked a room for next year. It is very difficult to get accommodation in that area when the Hay Festival is on and I was lucky to see this one on Facebook. We met up with our friend Sabine and as our Friday night event had been cancelled we went to the Sun Inn, a pub/ restaurant that Dan and I discovered on our first visit to Hay in 2014.

We enjoyed all of the events we booked. My absolute favourite was the first one we saw, Another Man's Shoes. This was delivered by the daughter of Sven Somme, a fisheries scientist who played a very active part in the Norwegian resistance in World War 2. He escaped from the Gestapo and managed a long walk (and sapling vaulting exercise) to the Swedish border. His daughter had his shoes, kept by a woman who sheltered him. He exchanged them for a pair of mountain boots.

Gary Kasparov is an excellent, energetic speaker although Stephen Fry did not ask him the questions that would have interested Dan. Fry also talked to Peter Singer, the third most eminent philosopher in the world. Perhaps we shall be vegetarians in a generation or two; I shall certainly look up charities on Effective Altruism. Michael Rosen, who was also talking about his children's books in other events, entertained us all on the subject of Emile Zola's escape from Paris with only a nightshirt wrapped in a newspaper.  I now see some of Jane Austen's characters in another light and shall explore Colm Tóibín's books. Simon Schama was as entertaining as ever and has put on a fair bit of weight. The only disappointment was the talk on the Society of Friends. The speakers included Sheila Hancock and Tracy Chevalier. It was interesting but not as good as we thought it would be.

Our bags were searched each time we entered the festival site and there were armed police in pairs and we saw three spaniels with policemen; sniffer dogs, I suppose.  We said good bye to Sabine on Sunday night and on Monday morning we set off to Pound Farm. Angela, my niece, and her husband are kindly taking some presents to my great-niece and nephew in Waltham Massachusetts. We had a pleasant stay and met Rose, the Romanian street dog who has been rescued. Cari found her in the shelter where she volunteers. Rose is about nine years old. The Miles family has had Rose spayed and her blind and infected eye removed. Her coat is glossy now and she has gained weight; she is affectionate and came on a walk with us and Dolly, Cari's Cavalier spaniel. On Tuesday Glyn took Dan for a spin in his Morgan. I think that they both greatly enjoyed  that. They are both very enthusiastic about cars. Glyn has parted with his Harley Davidson motor cycle.

On Tuesday night we went in Glyn's new Porsche to The Inn at Welland for a delicious meal. When we left they gave us presents for our forthcoming 70th birthdays. Angela reminded me that next time we go there will be a new Vizsla puppy; Angie has her name down for a bitch from a recently-born litter.

Preparing for Hay-on-Wye

The eyestrain is still a problem but I am coping. I have an appointment with my optician for Saturday June 10th. We shall see.

After the suicide bomber in Manchester security has been stepped up at the Hay Festival.  We cannot take my little pink rucksack to carry our waterproof trousers and hats and other things we may need. The weather forecast is good on the whole with only a little rain on Saturday. It will be hot for a few days, cooling down on Monday when we go to Pound Farm.

Yesterday I did my morning shift at the charity shop and then we went to Gunwharf Quays. We had a very pleasant lunch outside the Old Customs House and then went looking for wide-fit sandals. We did not find these so went to Whiteley. No luck there either, so we came home and  ordered them online. Dan went to take eggs to Sabine and to discuss our plans for meeting up at Hay. They did not know of his father's death. The funeral is set for June 8th. It will be simple, I hope. Two granddaughters who are close in age will contribute. Lucy will read a poem and Hannah will play the piano; I wonder if they mean play the organ. Neither of my children will be there, of course; our darling Katy is dead and we have not tried to find Neil to tell him of his grandfather's death. He mentioned once that he had "messaged Dad's family". I wonder if they will inform him; perhaps he was telling the truth when he wrote that, perhaps not.

I visited the nursing home on Tuesday afternoon. He had fallen asleep holding his beaker of tea. It had soaked into his shirt and a young female carer said that she would get a colleague and change it for him after I had gone. She would have done it right away but I mopped him up and waited for him to wake up. He did not, so I drank a cup of tea and went on my way. Dan had gone for his Tuesday petanque game.  I walked home via the Lidl supermarket but could not find frikadeller. One day, perhaps.

I meant to take a set of keys to Flat 18 so that the friends who live there can collect our post and put it on the dining table. I shall do that first thing in the morning. I have had my meal and want to go to bed soon. Most things are packed; just the bag that contains my skin care products has to go in my overnight bag. I am vain, I know, but Dan likes me to look smart and cared for. I have always taken care of my complexion.

We have an event to see tomorrow afternoon so must not leave later than 11 am. I have an alarm set because we usually walk on Friday mornings.  I have decided to get out one of my late aunt's rings for my great-niece. I think she will have to have the size altered, but I hope she will like it. We shall meet her new rescue dog and the six guinea pigs. We must find the pet shop in Hay and buy dog chews; we usually do this.

I am listening to an old favourite by Mary Higgins Clark. I have some new books from the Hampshire digital library to listen to. Extra books next month because it is my birthday.

Gerontius and Theia

I am cutting down my time on the computer; just an hour or so a day now because my brain seems to have difficulty with the crystal-clear vision in my left eye that is the result of the last vitrectomy.

On Monday afternoon we went to Southampton General to visit my father-in-law. He is on the coronary care ward. He is skeletally thin and very confused. We got him to drink a mocha-flavoured Fortisips drink and some sweet tea. The staff nurse talked to us, asking about his state of mind. I asked her if, should he be placed in permanent residential care, would there be a choice or would he just be placed where there is a vacancy. She did not know. This is the province of social services. Dan's sister and her husband came and they spoke to me; sometimes the husband does not. I think that Teresa wants her father to stay at home but I do not think that such a think is possible. He is ninety-six and very frail, physically and mentally. We shall visit next Monday. The eldest of the three sisters visited earlier in the day. The youngest sister is a nurse and I am think probably that the hospital staff would be more forthcoming with her.  Teresa told us that David, their stepbrother, has lung cancer. This is so sad; I think he is younger than Dan and me. Margaret, his sister was our age. She died some years ago of liver cancer. She had lupus and suffered greatly with rheumatoid arthritis. I last saw David and his wife at Elizabeth's funeral. She was a wonderful person and gave Paddy, my father-in-law, twenty years of happiness and companionship. He met her through me, in an indirect way. My Aunt Marjorie liked Paddy and persuaded him to join the Over-Sixties club. That is how he met Elizabeth and they married a little over a year later.  I am glad that I helped bring happiness into his life.

I have to visit the nursing home; I did not feel well yesterday. I hope that my vision; well, not that exactly because my vision is fine; eye muscles adjust and the stiff neck and shoulder and headache leave me. It may be a virus. Both my friend Adele and my co-worker in the charity shop, Ethel, have had a virus that seems to cause fainting. I do get bad headaches. I am also seeing the doctor tomorrow about my ears. The eczema in the left one is making itself felt and there has been a little pain in the right one. We shall see. I hope that I have not let my husband pay thousands of pounds to exchange one problem for another. We shall see.

I have to go to buy a cake for the old man. I must not resent him. None of what has happened is his fault. I had to forgive him for the way he treated me after the egregious, God-bothering Estalls visited him at Steep House told him that I had sold his house behind his back.  They had been very kind to my aunt and uncle and done a lot for them. I suppose that it was obvious that he would believe them. I managed to keep my temper when Geoff Estall phoned me to tell me what he had done. That was a good thing because he died of a stroke about a week later. I told Bill about this and bought and wrote a card to Greta, the widow. I did not take any more phone calls from her. When she phoned on the landline or on my cell phone I refused the call.  When he finally dies I shall put a death announcement in the Southend Echo but shall not include funeral details. I doubt that she could get there or would even want to, but I would not risk it. I do not really owe her anything; I expressed my gratitude many times, gave her a bowl of bulbs and a china ornament as a memento of my aunt. Geoff Estall also kept on about a large key safe; we did not know how expensive these things were and gave it to him for his daughter, supposedly a nurse. I ascertained a while later that this woman had been killed in a motorcycle accident. So, Greta had lost two members of her family in a short time.

I am tired; the shop was not busy but the headache does not help. Time to go.

Sick father-in-law and dilemma

My father-in-law is in hospital. Dan contacted his middle sister to ask if the old man is fit enough to travel tomorrow and she told him that he has been admitted to Southampton General with breathing problems. The hospital will run many tests; it seems his chest is "crackling". That sounds like pneumonia to me.  I shall suggest that we visit him on Monday afternoon.

I know how desperately he misses Elizabeth, his second wife and my daughter's much-loved step-grandma. They were married for twenty years and together for twenty-one. She gave him happiness and companionship and those things are so important. It was because of that marriage that Dan developed a good relationship with his father.

I have chosen the above picture because my father-in-law's name is Patrick, he is Irish and a cradle Catholic. Elizabeth was a pillar of the Church of England. I think that at one time she considered converting to Catholicism but that did not happen. My late mother-in-law was a convert. Elizabeth was one of the best people I have ever known and a sincere Christian. My mother-in-law was punctilious in the observance of her religion but made me think of Martin Luther attaining heaven by sheer monkery. By the end of her life I had given up on that relationship.

My dilemma is that I do not know what to do about my son. He railed at me in a vicious, spiteful letter that I could have let him know that Elizabeth had died and that his grandfather was ill. My last communication (and I told him it would be the last ever) pointed out that he had not let us know his new email address and had told me to stay out of his life. He had sent nasty messages on Facebook about his sister's death and funeral. I had let him know about her death in a roundabout way. He had never bothered with her; he has never bothered with his grandfather, although I asked him several times to come to Sunday lunch and see his grandfather and Elizabeth. Has he the right to know if his grandfather dies? Would he want to come to his funeral? If he did come, would he make an unpleasant scene? I simply do not know what to do. I suppose that if Paddy asks for Neil, we must contact him somehow and arrange to take him to the hospital. I wonder if his father will agree to this.

We visited the nursing home this afternoon and I gave Sandra, the head of activities, a bottle of wine that we had brought back from France. She is so good and takes pains with the old man. He ate a lot of chocolate buttons, white and milk. He has decided that he does not like doughnuts and refused the chocolate-iced one that I had got for him. He had had a cup of tea and cake before we arrived. Neil used to visit him, sometimes with me and sometimes alone. What became of my good, gentle sensitive son?

Mild indisposition

Today we should have walked, but I seem to have what used to be called a sick headache. I felt so dizzy and sick when I woke up that we did not go. I am sorry that we missed it; I greatly enjoy our walks and seeing the people in the group. The headache lingers. I shall have an early night tonight. We have to visit the nursing home tomorrow and Dan's father is coming for lunch on Sunday. On Monday morning it will be my shift in the charity shop.

On Sunday evening I must write some emails. I am long overdue to email cousin Cheryl in Melbourne. I haven't got much to tell at present. There are no recent photos to send; I have sent the pictures of our bigamist great-grandfather's gravestone and that of his sister, who accompanied him when he left his family and went to Canada.

I am feeling low. In France we avoided the presidential election by watching DVDs in the evening. It is harder to avoid the forthcoming general election. I detest this government. My darling daughter lost her benefits when she was ruled (on a system of points awarded). She appealed and when the hearing came up it took fifteen minutes for the judge to reinstate her benefits and back-date them. What a waste of public money. It caused her distress. My poor baby; she was good and honest to the core and incapable of malice and cruelty.  My son used to be a good person but I no longer know him. He has hurt me and deeply offended his father. I suppose that he is still living on benefits; he has done that most of his adult life. There is nothing I can do.

I have been listening to my iPod but also catching up on television. I love the Talking Pictures channel (343 on Sky) and have recorded some films. I am also recording the series Secret Army from the 1970s. We spent about four years abroad in that decade, from 1974 to 1980. I seldom watch television now. I have never watched Big Brother, I'm a Celebrity or Strictly Come Dancing. Katy used to watch Britain's Got Talent when she came here to stay. I am unacquainted with Downton Abbey and watched only a few minutes of the first episode of the current Poldark dramatisations. I did watch The Moorside, the quite good programme about the Shannon Matthews case.  Dan enjoys the old films that I record. He also loves car programmes. We both watch The Antiques Road Show and Flog It!

In two weeks' time we shall be at The Hay Festival. We have booked a room in a bed and breakfast establishment this time. This will be the best accommodation we have had for the festival; last year was in a tent, the years before at a place called The New Inn at Brilley. The New Radnor Barn will be luxury. Afterwards we shall spend a night or two at Pound Farm as guests of my niece and her family. Angela is one of the few relatives with whom I maintain contact.

Nearly bed time. One more lot of eye drops.  Another painkiller for the headache. I did the ironing today, tomorrow I must polish the silver.  By the end of July I hope to have the dining room I have will have waited fourteen years for.

Coping and continuing to function

I am home for a few hours as I have agreed to work the afternoon in the charity shop. I went in as usual, taking the box of biscuits that I bought in Leclerc. I stayed for an hour or so and then came home via the health stores where I buy most of my breakfast cereals. I also visited some of the other charity shops in the town.

Yesterday Dan went to Alresford to play petanque as usual. I did not visit my aged uncle as my left eye is still sore. Around 5.30 Dan's cousin and his wife arrived. We had a very pleasant meal together at the local ASK Italian restaurant. Philip is a very eminent professor of astronomy. We have visited him in La Palma, off the coast of Tenerife and Cape Town, where he was leading important projects. He and Anne have twin sons. It was good to see them and catch up on their travels and activities.  Anne is a scientific programmer and they met when Philip went to NASA. She is an American from Dublin, Pennsylvania. We have an invitation to visit them in Oxford.

I had my second vitrectomy on Monday afternoon. It went well. I was not so heavily anaesthetised this time and conversed a little with the surgeon. During cataract surgery one is conscious all the time and can make conversation with the surgeon's team. I am now washing my hands more times than Lady Macbeth in order to carry out the regime of eye drops. I have antibiotics four times a day for a week and anti-inflammatory drops four times a day for four weeks. When I go out I wear dark glasses. The pupil of the left eye is still a little dilated, making the vision fuzzy.

I have some emails to which I must reply. One is from my cousin in Melbourne, one from an old school friend and the other from my friend Adele. She and I met in Kingston, NY in 1974. Our respective husbands were both assigned to the IBM plant in that little town in the foothills of the Catskill mountains. We would have got on well together however we had met and have been firm friends ever since. Adele separated from her husband in 1976 and has not  married again. She has come close to it twice but remains single. At my daughter's funeral my three oldest friends were present; one from schooldays, one from civil service days, one from IBM assignment days. I value them all.

The weather is getting warmer. It has been very cold during our absence in France. I left the warm quilt on our bed and am glad that I did. I think that I shall change it next week. Tomorrow is chores day; ironing and polishing the silver. My dining room is going to be complete sometime in the summer. I am looking for a little table for the living room and for lamps for the dining room. There remains one room, the smallest (or smaller) bedroom, that needs a new oak floor. Dan uses it as a study/ office. It still has the rather horrid carpet that was there when we bought the flat. This, too, will come to pass. Patience.

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.

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.

Almost April

Dan has gone to the Heath to play petanque. I am listening to an audio book from the Hampshire digital library. I have not visited the nursing home this week. Last night my uncle's niece, who is also his next of kin, telephoned from Swansea. She visited him on Sunday and subsequently telephoned the manager. It was suggested that Bill should be given a television. I know that the current manager has not been there long. I know she is busy and has not got the easiest job. However, she should have looked at my uncle's record before making that suggestion. He is registered blind/ severely sight impaired. When he first lived at Steep House he used to monopolise the television in the top lounge; he watched Sky News all the time. I would intervene if I was there and put another channel on. He would sometimes watch the TV in his room but in the end he could no longer follow the programmes. Before it got too difficult for me, I used to read the paper to him and  now Sandra, the head of activities, does that. Some days he is receptive and some days he is not. He did remember who Patricia is; he said she was his brother's daughter, which is true. Her father was killed in the war and she was brought up by Bill's parents. She is more like a younger sister than a niece.  When I was finally able to get in touch with her I wondered if she would resent me, but that has not happened. She lost her husband in 2009 and a few years ago her son died suddenly; I know how that feels. Bill was still cogent when Bryan died but could not take in the death of his great-nephew.

It is two weeks to Good Friday. I shall not have to work in the charity shop on Easter Monday, which will be a pleasant break. The following Friday we shall be leaving for Vence and I shall not be in the shop again until  Wednesday May 10th. I shall enjoy the break. There is much work to do in the apartment; I must get the big curtain down from the patio door to the terrace and wash it. There will be bedlinen to launder. Dan will rake up pine needles and olive leaves and we must entertain whichever English neighbours are there. I love that part of France. We shall go to Antibes for lunch and leave our car in the park and ride carpark. The shuttle (navette) used to be free but now costs a euro. We always walk back through the Vieux Port and look at the yachts. I used to buy presents for my two children at one time. Then Neil went to the Midlands and we seldom heard from him. When he came south again I used to  bring him gifts from holidays again; at the end of 2013 I stopped giving him presents at all. He never thanked me and Dan resented it. Neil had his 40th birthday two days after his sister's funeral, which he did not attend. I sent him a text message. It hurt me that I could not celebrate this birthday with him. I think that he is a deeply unhappy and troubled man, but he does not want my love or help.

I must compile a shopping list as we are going to Tesco. I also need to buy breakfast cereals from the shop in Lavant Street. We shall walk tomorrow and there are things that need doing here; I must sort out the linen chest and take the bedlinen that we no longer use to the charity shop. Our friend Sabine, whose opinion Dan values, agrees with me that the room where a new oak floor has just been laid should be a dining room and not a bedroom. I have always wanted that; when we bought this flat my father-in-law was eighty-two and his wife was eighty-one. His health was not of the best and we did not expect him to live as long as he has. They used to stay with us at Christmas and other times, when we took them to the theatre. Elizabeth was a good, sweet person and I think a true Christian. Katy loved her so much and Elizabeth returned her love. I miss them both.

Signs of Spring

I have survived Mothering Sunday. I spent most of the day alone, catching up on chores and emails. I looked at my friends' pictures on Facebook. They were with their children and had received gifts and flowers. I did not, of course, hear from my son. I have removed all of the pictures of him from view; I have many of Katy at various stages of her life but there is none of Neil on display. The only recent picture of him is one I found on the Internet and downloaded. I think his hair is beginning to recede. He has gained a little weight; he will be forty-one in less than two weeks. I still miss him; I always shall but I have to write him off.

The weather is a little warmer and the wind has moderated, although it is still a little cold.  I am waiting for a pair of trousers that I sent to have shortened. They went to the seamstress at the end of January and it is now nearly the end of March. I wear trousers from Autumn to late Spring and now I need this lighter pair. I also need to get my hair cut. I cancelled my appointment because of the vitrectomy and have not got around to booking a new one. Tomorrow is the Probus lunch and I shall comb my hair in the shower and squeeze the fringe so that it doesn't get in my eyes. I have one pair of light trousers to wear. There was another pair but I gave it to the charity shop, not knowing that I would have to wait so long for the new ones to be shortened. Perhaps I shall go into jeans and cotton sweaters for a while.

This coming Sunday my father-in-law is coming to lunch. We have also invited my aunt; she is ninety-one but still sprightly and cogent. She was married to my father's brother. He died in 1954 and she remarried. Her second husband was absorbed into our family and regarded as an uncle. He died two years ago, having suffered from vascular dementia for some years. She and my father-in-law know each other from the Anglican church where Paddy's second wife was parish clerk. I have realised that, if one does not  make the effort to keep in touch, the years go by and then the opportunity to keep up friendships is gone. There are times when I feel sad that my lot seems to be the geriatrics and other friends and relations have grandchildren, but these times are getting fewer. We are too old and set in our ways to enjoy grandchildren now.

When I am in France I shall shop for clothes for my new great-nephew. I enjoy doing this and like the French outfits for babies. My niece and her husband are going to visit her cousin and his family this summer so she will take the gift together with a silver articulated fish for William Jae-Sun's older sister, Evelyn Jae-In. The fish belonged to my aunt, the wife of the old man I look after. Her name was Eva and she was known as Eve, so it's appropriate to give her near-namesake this keepsake. Evelyn's mother is of Korean extraction and I think that fish have a special significance in the Orient. I hope that she will treasure the pendant. There is a gold fish too, but I still wear that. I shall pass that on to one of my great-nieces eventually. There are four of them.

Dan is playing bridge tonight and I shall go to bed early with my little Bluetooth Bose and the iPods. I am listening to a book by Simon Tolkien, the grandson of J R R Tolkien. He writes well but there are a few too many Americanisms. However, I enjoy his books. I have several unread books on each iPod and am not going to buy my extra audible.co.uk credits for a few months. The Hampshire digital library has some good new additions and I have some pre-orders on audible. I shall save some to listen to while I am in Vence and travelling there and back.

I did my shift at the charity shop this morning. It was quite pleasant, although I missed Ethel who is off sick still. The usual Monday customers came in including the rather peculiar woman who insists that she had her handbag stolen from the shop some weeks ago. In fact, she dropped it on the pavement a little way up the road and a man took it into the estate agent nearby. The police were not interested and so a young woman brought the bag to us as a donation. Another customer found the woman in the town; the circumstances were explained to her but she still insisted that it had been stolen. She continued to repeat the lie around the town but it has not discouraged her from shopping with us.

I hope that the window man comes early tomorrow, as Dan has to let him in and it will make him late for the Probus meeting. We shall see.

Missing my only daughter

The shops are full of gifts for mothers whose children care about them. I have kept all of Katy's Mothering Sunday cards; mostly what she made herself when she did her courses at the local further education college. The little flower, possibly a gerbera, is her last present to me. It lives on in our garden in Vence. Pink was her favourite colour. We took her to an amateur production at the Festival Hall and one of her further education teachers was selling programmes. She told us that Katy was very bright; she stood out among her classmates. Once, when asked what her favourite colour was, she said "Is it all right if I say cerise?" I wore a scarf of that colour to her funeral. I miss her; the gap she has left is still there and there will never be anyone to fill it.

We must visit the nursing home this afternoon. Dan has bought a bag of doughnuts. The old man asked me to bring one when I visit today. I hope that I see Sandra, the head of activities, as I want to have a word about the carers. She was one of that team for six years. I want her to reassure them that I do not think badly of them; I have had run-ins but I know that they work hard for their measly pay. I am very annoyed that they have been blamed for the magnetic catch coming away from the wall. It was not installed properly in the first place and the handyman's dilatory tactics made it worse. I have reassured one young man but I want it emphasised. The handyman has not been well recently and I suppose will milk that to the limit.

There has been much in the press about a pensioner called John Place. He was seventy-two when his optometrist told him that he must no longer drive because of his deteriorating eyesight. Even with glasses, his vision did not come up to the standard required. He ignored this advice and went out in his car without his glasses. He killed a little girl of three and seriously injured her mother when he ran a red light.  It was reported that he did not stop at the scene until another car flagged him down but the police subsequently denied that this was true. He has been sent to prison and a five-year ban will begin when he comes out; rather absurd not to ban him for life, for he will never get another licence. I am wondering about taking up driving again after the next vitrectomy. I have never been a very happy driver, although I used to drive many miles because of my daughter's needs. We shall see. My night vision is not great but I hope that this will improve when the floaters are gone.

There have been no more anonymous calls on my mobile phone. I wonder if there will be more in a few months' time. I do not know where my son is; I believed he was in Portsmouth but now I wonder if he is in Havant. We seldom go there now. It was where Katy lived and we used to see her most Saturdays. I know that Neil was working (probably unpaid) as a disc jockey in a pub in Havant. He had to leave his flat in Petersfield and we did not hear from him again. It was only when I discovered some vitriolic messages in my message requests folder on Facebook shortly after Katy's funeral that I knew of his new profile. I do not even know if he is working; I hope he is. He paid so dearly for that one bad mistake and deserves another chance.

Tomorrow Dan is going to walk with a friend. I shall stay at home and do more ironing; I am not feeling sociable and shall do the chores instead. I have a charity shop sack that needs to be filled and must sort through some clothes. If I am going to have a dining room at long last, we shall lose clothes storage space. I cannot face parting with my shawls and scarves; I always buy natural fibres and they keep my arthritic neck warm. Some T-shirts must go and there are some miniature tea sets that may please a collector. Katy's doll house and the furniture and family went two years ago, to an old school friend. She has little grandchildren and it has already been played with. I kept it for the granddaughter I shall never have.

We have to go to buy eggs at Charity Farm before we visit the nursing home. I shall put my iPod in my handbag. One or both iPods go with me when I go out. I cannot manage print books or my e-reader any more. Audiobooks are wonderful; well, most of them anyway.

A Chance Meeting and More Memories

Today was shopping day. Dan did not play petanque as he usually does on Thursday morning as he has recently been appointed vice-chairman of the Probus Club. He went to his first committee meeting instead. I did a little ironing and one or two other chores. The young woman who has bought the flat next door and round the corner called and I told her that Dan would knock on her door when he returned home. Her father is helping her renovate the kitchen of her flat and they needed Dan's advice on the water supply.

Thursdays are poignant for me; we found our daughter dead on a Thursday afternoon. We went today to the supermarket in Havant where she would shop every other week and where we went the day she died. Dan had his car cleaned and filled up on petrol. When all of this was achieved, we went into the centre of Havant and parked at the Meridian Centre. I saw an old workmate from my days at the Portsmouth News. We chatted for a while and she told me that another former colleague recovered from cancer and is now well. I told her of Katy's death and how nothing is personal at The News any more; when I placed Katy's death announcement I wished that dear Arthur, who was front office manager for so many years, had been there to talk to. It was good to see her and catch up a little.

There have been more calls from a withheld number on my mobile phone. I blocked my son some time ago. I went to the O2 shop and the technician there activated the facility to block anonymous calls. Then my son phoned and did not withhold his number so I blocked that. Sometimes there will be calls on my blacklist log that follow the same pattern; two calls, quite close together. This has not happened since November but there were two calls today. It will be his  birthday soon. When we arrived home there was a message showing but no one had spoken; that, too was from a withheld number. Is he lonely? Is he ill? I worry that he has been smoking pot or skunk and that this has caused the change in personality. I still love my son and I always shall but I cannot see that there will ever be a reconciliation. I hope that he will one day find happiness.

Dan has gone to his bridge club. I am going to have a light tea with a glass of Prosecco and then go to bed with my iPod. I have to phone the charity shop first thing to see if I am needed. If not, we shall walk as usual.

The daffodils from Marks and Spencer are beautiful; creamy white, the sort with layers of petals and a little yellow in the centre. They give me hope and lift my spirits. The fine white orchid that our friend Sabine gave us a few years ago is blooming again; only two stalks this time but the stalks have extra branches. The bulbs from the market have been disappointing this year but we shall take them to Vence and plant them in the garden as usual.  Spring flowers are the daintiest. Katy loved primroses.