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Five things
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1. I hate not writing

2. I've looked round one care home and thought it was great but am scared at having been swayed by bollocks. I've done 'Prospective Parents Evenings' in shit schools, telling lies about how good they are - cos what are you gonna say? No one will say they neglect/abuse/don't give a shit about residents so how do you know? I'm seeing another one tomorrow.

3. YD has keeled over and is unable to help, in fact needs support.

4. I would like it if the health equivalent of 'Power of Attorney' was not called 'Deprivation of Liberty'. I have had to do that for ED as she is unable to state her needs, so I'm the one doing it. SIL has finally fucked off, it seems. Last week I said to her, "Listen kid, I'm moving you down to the coast to be near us. I think it'll be better for you but I don't know what you want. If you don't want me to do this, you're going to have to find a way of letting me know." I held up my hands. "This one for yes, that one for no." She heaved her arm up and batted the 'yes' hand. So that's a fucking relief, I can tell you.

5. This is a shameful time to be a Brit, honestly. Fucking hell. Though to be fair, I'd be equally embarrassed if I was from the US. I've stopped using the word American to describe people from the US after reading a really good article pointing out that America is a continent, which everyone knows, apart from people from the US who tend not to give a fuck what anyone else thinks, because they aren't from the US so don't count. Not you guys, obvs, don't mean you, I know you recognise the humanity of us all. They are called USians, or something similar in Spanish, Americano referring to everyone from top to bottom of the continent and also to a brown drink that once had a speck of coffee passed through it before it was drowned in gallons of tepid water (not too hot in case it gets spilled).

I am grateful for: my physical health; meeting someone I used to go to school with yesterday and haven't seen since (1972) and having a great afternoon, talking for hours; getting some plants in the garden, even if only in a stupid place because I can't be thinking about garden design and Bloke wouldn't make a fucking decision if you threatened to cut his dick off, but at least they have their roots down; lovely art group where I did a painting on silk of a Margaret Dumas work, for YD's birthday card; I've written a fucking blog, go me

Please leave a comment, I need all the support I can get just now. Thanks for sticking with me. Hope you're all well. xxx

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