Cry on your birthday, cry all year around

It is a while since I wrote in this blog. We have been away in France and the time leading up to that was busy; working in the charity shop, getting clothes and other things ready, packing them and all the other things relating to going on holiday.  We left circa 5 am on Friday, June 23rd and returned circa 9.25 pm on Saturday, July 8th. We left Petersfield in damp, cold windy weather (it had been very hot up until the Friday) and arrived in Vence in thick mist. We had a little rain, a very great deal of hot sun and some winds that aggravated the spondylosis in the cervix of my spine. We saw the upstairs neighbour twice, but not her husband. They had visitors coming from England and we did not get together. If they are there at Christmas we must invite them to lunch. 

I cannot say that I enjoyed my birthday. Dan went to the gun club. I felt so depressed; I cried for my children and for the future without them. We still have each other and that is good, but I am still living with guilt and regret. I still love my son and I always shall, but he is gone and I must accept it.  We went to the local Italian restaurant and I had a pizza and a pudding and two glasses of Prosecco. Not the celebration that we had on June 10th, but then I did not want that. 

I am cleaning out the bathroom cupboards; some eyewash lotion and cough mixture has sell-by dates of 2010. I remember how this distressed me when I cleared out my late aunt's house. I do not want to leave such a mess for my niece when she clears out our flat when we die, or when we go into residential care. We visited the old man on Sunday and he slept through our visit. We took biscuits for the carers as usual and a bottle of wine for Sandra. She told us that Bill had been alert during the morning and asked for music. Perhaps I shall change my visiting time to morning.  I am going to bring away his quite valuable pictures and replace them with others; I do not want any harm to come to them. I have complained about the paint job done in his room. I did this on the customer satisfaction survey that was sent to me recently. I gave the receptionist a low score; this probably means that she will be pleasant for a few visits and then revert to her usual off-hand, sour-faced self. 

I enjoyed my shift at the charity shop yesterday. Ethel was there and also Gordon, who is not as like Adolf Eichmann as I feared he would be. Donna, the assistant (or deputy, to use the latest term) is a very pleasant person . I shall volunteer for a while longer. 

We are giving away the furniture from our second bedroom, which will soon be what it was intended to be when these flats were built; the dining room. The friends who took Katy's bed and pine chest for their granddaughter are going to ask their two daughters if either can use any or all of it.  I want to start shopping for a merchant chest and little teak table. The table is for the end of the living room where the dining furniture now is and the merchant chest is for the dining room. We brought back the little marble table from the kitchen in Vence to put where the sideboard now is.  On it will be the pictures of our good, sweet daughter, together with a candle lamp and a vase for flowers. I am also considering getting a good container for her ashes and having that on the table, too. We shall see.

Residents' Association AGM

I have escaped from the Annual General Meeting for a while. I seldom take much part, although my husband is the chairman.  The people who have come are all very pleasant, including the young woman who has bought the flat next door. There used to be some very disagreeable people in the block but most of these have now gone. There has been a lot of change in the fourteen years since we moved here. There are only two people who were here when we came; a nice young postman who is also a writer and a large person who is in the travel business and spends a lot of time abroad. The main topic of conversation will probably be the ever-contentious issue of the car park.

I worked my shift in the charity shop today and quite enjoyed it. It was quite busy and we sold a lot of summer clothes. We have a lot of regular customers who make the shop their first port of call for many things. I shall go on volunteering for a while. I wonder each week if it will be weeks, months or years that I have to continue going to Steep House.  He is less and less responsive each time.  Yesterday he ate a very little chocolate but said only a few words. I got a lift to the end of the drive from an old woman who visits the oldest resident: her father, who is one hundred and six years old. He is suffering from dementia now but she only had to put him into residential care two years ago.

The weather is hot at present. I am finding it a little difficult to cope with but it is good to see the sun. Soon we shall be off to Vence where it is even hotter. In fact, it is officially a heat wave now. "C'est la canicule!". I  must pack my best tankini and do a little swimming. That is good exercise. I learned to swim when I was sixty-one and should do more of it. The beastly government stopped free swimming for over-sixties. How they hate the old, disabled, poor and disadvantaged. Theresa May deserved her humiliation over the general election.

My fiction iPod is in the big Bose dock in the living room. I am listening to Simon Callow's autobiography on the non-fiction iPod. I have a little Bluetooth speaker that I must remember to take to Vence with me.

On Friday we shall walk and I want to have an inexpensive lunch at ASK on the High Street. Two courses for £9.95; a starter and main or a main and pudding. It's not available on Sunday as it's Father's Day. We no longer have any children. I got my hair cut and styled yesterday and quite forgot that I had previously told the stylist that I had a daughter who died  but not that I once had a son. I still wonder if he is lonely at Christmas. I feel sad that I can no longer give him birthday presents and a card each year. It is over; I have to get used to that.

I might have a shower before bed. I have opened all the bedroom windows but it is still very warm and muggy. I just hope that the visitors do not stay too late. One or two of them tend to linger on. One neighbour has to go back to work and I hope she will give the lead to the others. How ungracious I sound.

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.

Saying "Good-bye" again.

I am tired and have had no lunch, just a cup of coffee at the Southampton General Hospital. We intended to visit my father-in-law after the follow-up visit to the eye surgeon. Dan let his sister know and she told us that he had been moved to another ward. While on the M27 a call came in from her; his condition had deteriorated and he had been moved to a side ward. It was just a matter of time. Two of Dan's sisters, Jacqui who is the eldest and Teresa who is the second, were already there. He died about an hour after we got there, slipping peacefully away.   I think that this is the most merciful way; he might have hated a residential home.  I am glad, so glad that Dan had a good relationship with him since 1991, when his mother died. The wonderful Elizabeth contributed greatly to that, of course. She was a wonderful woman.

Dan has let some of his father's relatives know. Veronica, a niece whom I particularly dislike, may be too infirm to come to the funeral. Her brother Joe, a man I like and who has a particularly nice wife, is also in a rather frail state. We shall see. Their sister Maureen and brother Gerard might come, I suppose, although I doubt it in Maureen's case. She distanced herself from her family long ago. Pauline, the other sister, died of cancer many years ago. I never met her and have never met Maureen.

My son said that he had "messaged" his father's family when he learned of Elizabeth's death and his grandfather's illness. The two sisters were phoning their two other siblings and their children whilst at the hospital. Perhaps they will let Neil know. I could send a message on Facebook but he would probably not see it. I have sent a message to Dan's brother Sean's ex-wife; I sent emails but they bounced back. I did not know that she had changed her email address. Perhaps her server is down.  She spends a lot of time on Facebook so I hope she will soon see my message. There have been many kind messages from my Facebook friends; people laugh at such things but these same people were very supportive and generous when my darling Katy died.

I do not know whether to visit my aged uncle-in-law tomorrow or Wednesday. I must go before we leave for Hay-on-Wye on Friday. One of the two sisters will collect the death certificate and arrange all with the funeral director. Paddy paid in advance for his funeral; all is arranged, even the wake. I have suggested that his death is announced in the local paper. There are still people about who would like to attend the funeral as he was a popular man. Although he was a cradle Catholic, his funeral service will be at St Marks, the Anglican church he attended for so many years with Elizabeth.