I’m living in an Eastenders’ plot line

Inevitably it was never going to be that easy. To finish the mum saga (which would make a good plot line for the Eastenders Christmas Special), by Saturday evening she didn’t want to stay in the home and I was the worst son in the world. So I reorganised the care at home people to take her out this week. Then, on Monday morning she wanted to stay. Well … we had a conversation which included ‘please remember we had this discussion as we’re leaving on Tuesday and there’s nothing I can do to reverse this decision until we come back from Saudi’. Mum said that of course she was sure. And, yes, I should cancel the care people …

he loves the sea

… only for her to change her mind Monday evening. It was, of course, all my fault. And I know I should be the adult in the room, but mum’s dementia isn’t so far down the line that she’s incapable of making a decision and sticking to it. She’s just terribly flip-floppy. I told her that this was her decision (did she remember?) and that she would have to stay in the home until we got back from Saudi. At which point all the options would be on the table. No, that wasn’t good enough. And, no, she wasn’t prepared to put herself out for me, C, the baby and, frankly, anyone else. Ho hum.

The long and the short is that we have re-energised the carers and they have seen mum and are happy. I will go back up to Colchester on Monday, resort the house, restock the fridge and freezer (etc), and then the carers will take her out on Tuesday. She will be less safe, but happier. As opposed to v safe and unhappy. I’m afraid  cannot be the son who incarcerates his mother. I can’t. But, hopefully, that’s that. And, insha’Allah, we fly out to Saudi on Saturday. 

everything is a mess

There is no need for reflection: it has easily been the worst three weeks of my life. And I just want it to be over. I think we might be there now. I hope so.

Anyhow, we’re back in Bristol, getting our poop in a sock, as they say. There’s been plenty of mum stuff to do (registering powers of attorney with both banks) and other prep for the Arabian peninsula. Henry, of course, has continued to keep us on our toes both in a delightful and, at the same time, exhaustingly busy way. C’s mental health has been a yo-yoish (I know she won’t mind me mentioning this) which has all added colour. But, it looks like we can see light at the end of the tunnel.

no part of our house has been left unexplored

The good news is both sets of kids are in good form. Jen, who was v poorly last month (and has added to our woes), is in the best place I’ve seen her for a while – even if she has a tube coming out of her nose. We took Henry to their place yesterday afternoon and he had a ball. I’ve never seen a kid laugh so much. And the Henryless Bex and Steven look like they’re settling in well in Riyadh. Whilst this time has been an unmitigated disaster back here, what it does mean is, when we get to Saudi, rather than being part of the settling in package (one of the main reasons for going), we can now arrive with the pair of them set up, having taught for a week, and with a nanny on the cards. It might mean that C and I get a chance to put our feet up and enjoy the step change in culture. We’ll see.

Other than that, I’ve tried my best to keep out of politics. The fact that the cost of living crisis has grown to such huge proportions whilst the government is in stasis – and Johnson has taken two European holidays – is hugely frustrating. I have absolutely no time for any of them. But you know that.

Keep safe. Hopefully next time I write this it won’t be between nappy changes. And, as  result, I may be able to pay more attention to what I’m writing. Bye for now.