I Want To Be Alone

You know the sort of things you say to your significant other that are meant to be between just the two of you? Like, "Oh for fuck's sake, what's she doing here? I wish she'd come to visit Pearlie when I wasn't here." The sort of thing you'd rather she didn't hear. Well I blew that one today.

Problem is my inner sanctum, otherwise known as my bedroom, is directly above Pearlie's room which was, of course, my previous inner sanctum. When I am in my bedroom I hear everything that is going on in her room be it her whining at Bert, hearty carer conversations, Deal Or No Deal or general multi-purpose whinging. So when Favourite Niece burst in this afternoon when I was resting up a spell after a night on Matty duties I got more than a little irritated. Which meant I got up in a pet and said that thing to Bert which the Favourite Niece overheard.

Humble Pie- it is so yummy, so nourishing, truly it is soul food and fit for a wretch like me.

Did I mention that nineteen different people where at our house yesterday, or that sometimes I have a strong urge to Go Garbo? It's not that easy when you live in Paddy's Market.

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Walking the Pigs

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The Joys of Beekeeping

beekeeping, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Bert and I just cannot wait to get out there and do a hive inspection. It's a better way to spend the Twelfth than marching or rioting.

Brother Joe's take on the Belfast rioters?

Those boys would be more use between the shafts of a turf barrow!

But that's another post - The Joys of Turfcutting.

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Talcum Storm

I really do believe that those carers are out to get me. All I asked of them was that they wouldn't leave wet pads in Pearlie's room. They seem to hate me picking them up on anything. This morning one of them spilled talcum powder all over her floor, trod in it then stamped, literally stamped her way out of the house ensuring that the talc got everywhere. Bert says I'm paranoid. Maybe I am.

When I speak of the carers and use the words 'they' or 'them' I really mean 'she' and 'her' for it's really just one of them, maybe two.

Bert says I'm paranoid. Maybe I am.

This I do know. If 'she' worked in any half-decent residential home it would not be long before 'she' was standing in the manager's office.

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Fall

Matty has been getting on pretty fine recently. Going out for drives, bossing everyone around (nicely), flower arranging, supervising the housekeeping and eating like a Trojan. She has even started knitting again now that the super strong cancer medicine has taken away all her arthritis pain.

Then, last night, she fell. She cut her brow and bruised her arm and hurt her leg. She spent all of last night hanging around A&E with Trish and Joe. Thankfully no permanent damage done and they let her out again mid-morning. Trish said she was a hoot at the hospital. The batteries in her hearing aid were running down so that generally means she has to shout a lot and as the cancer medicine removes her inhibitions she is not one bit scared of speaking her mind. So all the other patients had to put up with her sharing her opinions of them and their ailments. She called one doctor 'a handsome hulk' and was very pass-remarkable to all within earshot.

She is not quite as mobile as she was but with luck she will regain her liveliness for a wee while at least. Matty wasn't the only one of her family in the wars yesterday. Her older sister had a fall too and she has broken her hip. We'll tell Matty tomorrow when she is better able to hear bad news. Hard times for us all.

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Rage

When Pearlie returned from her last respite break in The Wee Free Orange Home for Retired Gentlefolk she found, to her horror and mine, that half her entire team of Caring Type People had been changed. It wasn't the ones that keep her clean and comfy - it was the ones that scramble her eggs, prepare her panada and carry her in cups of tea. They're the ones I hate the most because they invade my kitchen. They're not supposed to because Pearlie has her own kitchen but a lot of them prefer cooking on gas than electricity. Bert doesn't help as he has nice wee chats with them and they all think he's lovely and easy-going. I call his wee chats Fraternising With The Enemy and try to discourage it but it's not easy when I'm not there most of the time. In theory Bert could sort her out with food and drink because she's not that difficult to fodder but if she was depending on him she'd be dead of thirst and starvation many years ago. He forgets he has a mother when he is out in his polytunnel. He forgets to feed himself as well. There is nothing a hard working woman likes to hear on her return from a highly stressful day at the office than the words, "What are we eating?"

But - to get back to The Invaders - I'd got used to the last team and they got used to me. There was one I thoroughly loathed and a couple I positively liked and the rest were tolerable. But I'm not too sure about this new bunch. It hasn't helped that Bert started them all off on the wrong foot by telling them that they could use our kitchen. Now I have to be Mrs Mean and tell them they can't. I'm sure that when I'm at work Bert has them in tee-heeing with them and laughing behind my back. But not at the weekends - no sirree!

On Sunday one of them came through the back door singing. Singing hymns! Christian hymns! I could have been a Muslim for all she knew. She spotted me washing down my worktops. She called out a gaily "Hello! Lovely day isn't it!" I glared at her and closed the door. She carried on carolling hymns. Surely I do not have my sorrows to seek when a hymn-singing harridan can enter my house at will and get paid for it!

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If I Had An Ounce Of Sense...

I'd be in bed asleep right now.

My rest was disturbed last night at around two am by Holly de Cat defending her territory from a strange intruder. For a small cat she makes a big noise. Of course I tried to help her by throwing objects at the invader cat but I throw like a girl and my feeble attempts were enough to make a cat laugh and they sure did.

After that I just could not get back to sleep for worrying. And not about cats either. I worried about work and I fretted about Matty and I tossed and turned. Heard Hannah up and about at seven am (It was actually six am) and raced up to get in the shower before her as she spends a long time in there being a great deal more high maintenance than I am. Afterwards returned to bed wrapped in two big towels and woke up from a rather disturbing dream about going Sapphic with Amy Winehouse and my hair like a brillo pad. Really must condition.

Then I went to work which is a whole other story. I might tell it someday but not now, not here. Maybe some other time and some other blog. I haven't been this stressed since I was working in Spide City, trying to manage a hostel with residents engaging in the highest of high-risk behaviours and actually bloody dying on my watch....

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