Tuesday, 19 August 2008


Must apologize for a glaring gaff made in my last post. I had keyed into Google, Photos of Brian Sewell, these I received together with photos taken by another Brian Sewell (Excellent, worth checking out) What a relief to know that Mr.Snotty Sewell is as we all suspected,only capable of ripping to bits the talented. But some good comes from every mistake, I received a message from fat frumpy and fifty blogger, who was surprised that "pompous" Brian had it in him, happily it turned out that he didn`t on further checking on my part. Her blog has fabulous photos and a great vintage company is advertised and run by her. She is living in Cumbria, small world, my Gt Grandfather on my mothers side came from Wigton, and many others from Stanwix and Carlisle.

Two old pals called around this morning. A bit of planning wouldn`t have gone amiss, but, as usual, the night before, I`m either on the computer, reading, ripping up old crap or moving things in the cupboard from one place to the other trying to give the illusion of "More space". Even if I had decided on the clothes I will be wearing for the next day, knowing my fat record, trying things on I like but don`t like me, fat cow.

But no..... sitting with a glass of wine, yeah, yeah, it`ll be ok, I`ll get up early and make a start, they`re not arriving until 10.00am, plenty time, the house is like shitsville, no matter, Mrs. Superefficient will be on top form? Rab C Nesbitt is on and I can`t bring myself to go to bed until it`s finished around 11.40. So, consequently I`m knackered at 7.30 the next day. Start by stuffing anything and everything into cupboards, which I know that sometime next week, I`ll be looking for said objects. I put lamb and onions in the creuset pan in the oven, the vegetables are peeled, swiff over the floor and I`m sitting on the computer as if that was all I`d been doing all morning, sweating like a pig is the dead giveaway.

However in control I appear to be I burn the carrots. Son G is on a day off and swans through

G " Burnt the carrots again?"

I had cooked dinner on Monday and burnt them, but thanks for the reminder. And luckily friends have brought strawberries and fresh cream, just as well as all I had in was yoghurt.

It`s pissed down all day, D is on a days leave tomorrow, we had planned to go to the boat, but we hear on the radio that the A69 is flooded, so maybe a trip to the tip with more crap, something exciting like that? Not.

Pals give me a lift to Gosforth Library where I meet friends S and K. Henry Charlton is promoting his book Travels in a Bygone Age, He came well prepared, with photos from his travels in Rhodesia, Bombay and Canada, he is saddened by the change of governments, recalls his work as a structural engineer. One account of a near death experience where a gun was held to his temple, poisonous snakes etc. Suddenly my burnt carrots pale into insignificance.

D and I get back home and there is a message from his father`s nursing home, what has he been up to we wonder. Last message we received he had smuggled a knife into his trouser pocket after lunch, used it to loosen the screws on the door to the corridor, escaped downstairs, then took the screws off the fire escape door, he was on his way out when the alarm bell sounded and they caught him. This was more serious, if that`s possible, he had been punched in the face by another resident.We must have him moved to the downstairs section, it appears more calmer there with more staff. The more I see of such places, it`s definitely going to be a cyanide pill from the internet for me.


Paul and Bobbi Trehan-Young said...

Cant believe he tried to escape the home - cant blame him tho really.

Is he ok?

Yvonne Young said...

Yes, he`s fine, one blessing with Alzhiemers is that he has no memory of it ever having happened. There are no marks on his face. We`ve had him moved downstairs where its mainly women and two fellas in wheelchairs, he was in the diner when we arrived yesterday, happy as a lark, chatting to the fellas. David asked him how old he is, he didn`t know, when D said "You`re 88" he answered "Am I shit."