Author: Jenny’s Brave New World!

One of my first ‘jobs’ when I became a ‘lady of leisure’ was to get our house painted. Over the years we have struggled to find good, reliable decorators so I wasn’t looking forward to this challenge!

Residents of our Park often leave names of tradesmen, good and bad, in the club house so that was my first port if call. Only one name was listed as ‘reliable but needs supervision’ and the other three were ‘to avoid at all cost’! A start but I always get three quotes so had to find two others. I had kept hold of a few ‘fliers’ pushed through our door over the last few months so found another one.

The first gentleman I interviewed was the recommended decorator. He was very short and voiced his concern about the height of the two gables on either side of the house. He also insisted that he would need scaffolding over the conservatory as a ‘health and safety’ precaution. He was happy for us to buy the paint so quoted a day rate. I would have preferred the total cost of the job, although he said about four days, so thanked him for his time and waited for decorator number two.

He arrived at 6:00 pm on a Friday evening after I had to telephone him to confirm the time. I had written 5:00 pm in my diary but he insisted that he had told me 7:00 pm. Not a good start. He came covered in paint so presumed he hadn’t gone home. This assumption was correct. He had just come from the pub, which apparently serves excellent cider! He also needed scaffolding over the conservatory and on one side of the house. He would buy the paint and quoted for the complete job. The price had doubled.

So, not only did I have to find a decorator, I also had to find a scaffolding company! As luck would have it, a house at the top of our road was having new windows fitted so rang their scaffolding company for a quote. The next morning I received a visit from the manager and was shocked to hear the price! He also gave me the name of a decorator and suggested we paint our gutters and facia boards brown to match the garage door and save on cleaning, something we had already discussed. I arranged to meet decorator number three.

I’ll call him Sam. He looked at the gutters and facia boards and told me about their fantastic product that paints plastic and has a 10 year guarantee. This dramatically reduces the cost. They also supply a special paint which they spray on the walls and comes with a 20 year guarantee. He gave me the price which was five times higher than the original decorator but included scaffolding, gutters and facia boards. He told me that he would ‘throw in the garage at no extra cost’. I had taken an instant dislike to the man and didn’t trust him!

My husband came home while Sam was in full swing, explaining how fantastic this new paint from America was in covering cracks and preventing algae and moss build up! He gave us a brochure filled with scientific facts and guarantees. After another half an hour we had to explain that we were meeting friends for a meal or else Sam would have spent the rest of the evening with us!

To cut a long story short and many debates later, Sam was given the job. I still didn’t trust him but I am a cynic and my husband, after researching the products on line, was happy to give Sam a chance.

Sam did not disappoint! The job was unprofessionally handled from start to finish. His staff were not supported and his promise to be involved in everything, from start to finish, just didn’t happen. I saw him briefly on day one and that was it! I became the project manager as Sam hadn’t briefed his staff properly but just left them to get on with it!

Last Saturday, after running out of paint early on Friday afternoon, an older gentlemen joined the younger one and both worked tirelessly to finish while the dry weather lasted. They also had to start a new job on Monday. Still no Sam but, on Saturday evening, after my husband and I were invited to walk around and confirm all was fine, Sam was on the phone wanting his final payment.

I had felt sorry for his staff. They seemed to show some pride in their work. The walls looked okay (although the paint hadn’t fully dried) and the gutters and facia boards were a vast improvement. I paid by credit card, knowing that I could recall the funds if necessary.

Alas, once payment was received, Sam washed his hands off us. I am now trying to get the front wall repainted. It has fully dried and dark spots have appeared which need to be covered. Sam promised to see me on Monday and then last night. He sent the two gentlemen who had worked on Saturday to clear the rest of the rubbish left on the back lawn. They agreed that the wall needed to be repainted. I have still not received the promised guarantee and credit card receipt in the post! Nor have I seen Sam!

I sincerely hope that we get the wall repainted and someone comes to remove the scaffolding soon. I also hope that I don’t have to post a warning on their Facebook page and on the decorator list kept at the club house. However, I won’t be recommending Sam or his company either! I also hope that I don’t have to go through the process of raising a dispute with my credit card company! These are hassles I can do without! I just want to get shot of Sam. My gut instinct has always served me well in the past and will continue to do so in the future! I think I’m going to suggest that my husband does a decorating course at our local college when he retires! I don’t want to go through this fiasco ever again!

The sun is shining. My friend and I are going to the care home to give the residents their weekly exercise class. I’m going for a walk with friends this afternoon and then to the club house tonight for the weekly quiz. On Friday I meet two good friends for lunch. Next week we leave for South Africa. I’m forgetting Sam already …..👠,

I love trains! My dream holiday would be a train journey from our village station, all across Europe, never leaving my cabin! I’d just sit (or periodically have a run on the treadmill next to my reclining, back massaging arm chair) and have all meals served as I watched the world go by. I’d visit the capital cities and chug slowly up mountain passes, down through magical valleys and fun-packed seaside resorts.

But alas, that’s just a pipe dream! So I did the next best thing! A friend and I went to Chester by train. There were no fancy arm chairs or meals served by waiters in tuxedos but we did pass through some pretty little villages and the scenery, on that lovely sunny autumn morning, was lovely.

We decided to start our shopping trip with a cup of coffee and a piece of cake. I left my friend at an outside table (so that we could watch the world go by!) and went to the counter. What happened next was a Mr Bean act that Rowan Atkinson would have found hard to follow!

The tray was set with two large coffees, two small jugs of milk and two plates, one holding a piece of cake and the other my gluten free brownie. The cuff of my jacket, as I lifted the tray, capsized one of the jugs of milk. I was offered another tray, placed on the other side of the counter. I stepped forward holding the soiled tray and didn’t see a small step separating the two counters. I stumbled forward. One of the assistants was making a drink in front of me. She grabbed hold of the tray and I was able to steady myself with one hand on the wall and the other clutching the side of the counter. The rest of the milk and some of the coffee had created a muddy brown mess which had begun to drip down onto the floor. Miraculously the pieces of cakes were not affected!

Fortunately I don’t blush! I turned to face the bemused row of people waiting behind me. ‘I haven’t been drinking!’ I stammered. ‘I just didn’t see that step!’ I repacked the tray and everyone promptly moved out of my way as I sheepishly walked past them to my friend waiting patiently outside.

That wouldn’t have happened in my pipe dream! To add insult to injury the manager came outside to check that I hadn’t hurt myself! Once more I explained that I hadn’t seen the step and was not drunk! This meant that the crowd outside the coffee shop, who hadn’t seen the debacle, were also made aware of the spectacle I had made of myself!

But that’s life! I’ve moved on and can laugh about it and even share it! The train journey was last Tuesday morning. I wasn’t sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen. I went on a train, had a super day out with a good friend and bought some clothes for my holiday in South Africa next month. Win, win!👠

Waking up on a Monday morning and not having to go to work still excites me and it’s almost four months since I became a ‘Lady of Leisure’. No early starts also allows me to go out on a week night!

Last Thursday a friend asked me to go with her to an autumn / winter fashion show held in a department store in the heart of Cheshire. This area is also home to Premier League football players so I had a good idea of the demographic of the audience. But I was wrong!

Looking around I was surprised to see the majority of the women (only one man!), were between the ages of fifty and eighty! I was not expecting this! Neither was my friend. In somewhat curious anticipation we settled down with our glasses of sparkling wine 🥂 and waited for the show to begin.

It started with two young body builders walking down the ramp in short shorts and vests. Not what I had imagined! The eye candy seemed to go down well with only a few sniggers and embarrassed giggles but we all clapped, some very enthusiastically, as they left the stage.

There followed a really good fashion show. The store had done a superb job in catering for the age group of the audience. Times have changed, thankfully! Women of a certain age don’t have to wear twin sets and pearls. Without looking like ‘mutton dressed up as lamb’ we are able to follow most of the latest fashions. With just a few tweaks here and there to allow for changes in body shapes, stores are keen to tap into the disposable income of this large group of the population!

After the show the store remained open and the models and staff were available to offer help and advice. Not working or having any functions planned in the foreseeable future I was not in the market for an outfit. I could hear my husband’s sigh of relief as I walked past the rows of clothes showing minimal interest!

My friend liked one of the dresses and a reversible jacket so we chatted to a model who found a store assistant to help. I was more interested in the shoes. The only downside to not going to work every day means that I would have nowhere to wear the beautiful peep toe high-heeled boots balancing enticingly on a little glass rack before me. I could just feel the love for these gorgeous works of art oozing from every pore and desperately tried to find reasons why I had to have them.

But common sense, sadly, prevailed and we left the store only clutching our little bags of goodies we had found on our chairs and nothing else! But we had both thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Doing something different, meeting new and interesting people and having fun is part of my exciting journey into ‘retirement’. It’s not the last stage of my life but the beginning of a new one. By keeping physically and mentally active I’ll wage war on dementia! This is one fear that I’ll keep on fighting against and will try to raise as much money as I can to find a cure! I can’t do anymore. 👠

Yesterday was wet and very windy. I decided to bite the bullet and clean the kitchen cupboards. Last year, when we were on holiday, I had given this ‘exciting’ job to the cleaners.

On our return, exhausted from the long trip back from the US, we were met by the kitchen work surfaces covered in bottles, tins, tubs and jars, all past their sell by dates! I was on the verge of gathering them up and throwing them in the bin when my husband stepped in!

Looking at the dates on the containers he systematically began packing them back into the cupboards, muttering under his breath that they were all fine and it would be a criminal waste to bin them!

A year later these cupboards were jam-packed and needed a thorough overhaul! I had procrastinated long enough. I turned on the radio, rolled up my sleeves and opened the first door.

I could not believe some of the sell by dates! I found herbs from the nineteen nineties! There were jams and pickles that were ten to fifteen years old! Fancy packets of tea and spices we had bought when we were in Sri Lanka, twenty years ago, remained unopened, hidden from view at the back of a cupboard.

I was shocked and embarrassed. This was such a waste! I, like my husband, hate throwing food away. The main problem was how the cupboards had been packed. The worst culprits were right at the top, not easy to reach and in no particular order.

A few hours later after, thankfully, a number of welcomed interruptions, I had washed down the cupboards, created a sensible storage system and removed the inedible products. I am determined that this will never happen again!

Feeling relieved that I had finally completed this unpleasant chore, I decided to polish the oak doors. This made such a difference and the lovely patterns in the wood became clearly visible. I picked up the kettle to make myself a well-deserved cup of tea and skidded across the hard stone floor. I had created a polished ice rink! The next half an hour was taken up scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees to avoid serious injury!

I have spent more exiting days as a ‘Lady of Leisure’ but this does rank as one of the most satisfying! I spent the next two hours at the yoga class and then had a long walk with a friend, taking advantage of the lull in the weather. I popped in to see Mum and leave money for her ‘petty cash’ so that she can have her weekly hairdos and outings and got home just as the heavens opened.

Yesterday would have been my father’s birthday.He was the same age as the Queen, born in 1926. Rest in peace, Dad. I still miss you. 👠

Yesterday I went solo. My friend is on holiday so I took the exercise class at Mum’s care home. I devised a lesson plan, worked out the amount of time needed for the warm up and cooling down sessions and practiced a routine. I was prepared!

However, my docking station chose yesterday morning to dig his heels in and go on strike! The remote control, fitted with a new battery and working perfectly at home, remained unresponsive! My smooth transition from one piece of music to the next just didn’t happen. Cooling down to ‘Jeremiah was a bullfrog’ was not ideal! We had just finished the ‘hand jive’ so a few of the residents continued with this routine whilst I struggled to find Vera Lyn’s ‘White cliffs of Dover’.

But everyone seemed to have had some fun and most of the residents had joined in, some singing more than ‘doing’ but still involved, which is the aim of this project. Today I am getting a new docking station! Out with the old, in with the new!

When out walking with my friend yesterday afternoon I shared the annoyance of the docking station scenario with her but also the positive outcome of my first foray into ‘teaching’. It was more satisfying than I had imagined, to which my friend, a retired teacher, readily agreed. So we chatted along the quiet country lanes, taking a new route that I had discovered last week. The sun was shining and it was lovely and warm, sheltered by trees on either side. The homes, mostly small holdings, were pretty and well maintained. As we turned into a larger, busier road my friend suddenly announced that we were being followed by a goat!

‘Yeah right’ was my immediate response! But, trotting proudly behind us, was a lovely sable coloured goat! He had confidently joined our gang and was not going to budge. We tried to shoo him away, thinking he might pop back through the hedge, but he refused to move. A car was fast approaching so I stood in the middle of the road with my hand up, forcing it to stop. The driver suggested we take Goat back to a field three telegraph poles behind us where he had seen a few goats grazing earlier. So we turned around as instructed. Goat followed, happy to oblige, stopping occasionally to nibble on the lush green grass by the roadside.

In the distance we saw a tractor, followed by a few cars. I once more went into the middle of the road warming to my new traffic officer role! The tractor stopped and my friend went over to explain. The farmer didn’t know anything about a herd of goats in any field nearby so couldn’t help. He slowly drove around Goat, leaving my friend to speak to the driver of the first car waiting patiently in the queue. The woman was more helpful. She told us that, living three houses down our newly discovered lane, was a man called Dave. He had previously owned goats so might be able to help.

Once more we called Goat to heel and turned down the lane, finding the whole episode highly amusing! Goat occasionally wandered off to forage and seemed to forget about us so needed regular encouragement. I decided to name him Billy, a good ‘goat’ name!

We got to the second house with a car in the drive and decided to knock on their door for advice. The third house seemed a long way away. A man and his young daughter approached from the side of the house, took one look at Goat and raised their eyebrows in disdain! ‘Oh Dave’ the man shook his head, ‘you’ve got out again’!

So the goat’s name was Dave! Chuckling we retraced our footsteps, commenting that Fitbit would be rubbing his hands in glee as we had significantly increased our steps!

To complete the diary of a day in the life of a ‘Lady of Leisure’ my cousin and I exchanged a number of WhatsApp messages and a phone call to arrange some of the amazing trips she has planned for us next month in South Africa. Excitement is mounting!

The sun has broken through the clouds. I’m going out for a quick walk before lunch. I have booked a carer today so Mum can have her tea and cake in her favourite tearoom. Life is good. 👠

I’m not a natural athlete. I have done some form of exercise for as long as I can remember, not always because I want to, but because I am vain and like to feel fit and well!

Currently I do two circuit classes, take plenty of walks (weather permitting!) have a run and do a yoga class once a week. However, I don’t do any exercises early in the morning. I get up slowly, have a coffee, watch the news programme, have breakfast and catch up with any outstanding admin. This sounds indulgent but I have earned these lazy mornings! My 5:45 am alarm clock wake ups are a thing of the past! I can now pander to my natural body clock and gently ease myself into each day, relaxed and stress free!

So when I received an email from the circuit instructor offering a new class called Kettlercise I was up for the challenge until I heard that it was on Friday morning at 9:15 am! It could have been worse, the class could have started at 8:15 am but it was still early. I needed to have breakfast and allow it to settle. I also had to, as my husband calls it, paint and decorate (hair and makeup)! Anyway, it meant that I had to forgo my comfortable morning routine. Not good!

I could have turned this ‘opportunity’ down but a friend was also nagging me to join her. I felt too embarrassed to share my new found luxurious freedom so bit the bullet and went to the class last Friday.

I was handed a 4kg kettlebell and took my place in the fast filling village hall. I had begun to stiffen up from the previous evening’s circuit class, in addition to my natural early morning lethargic state. The loud blast of music wasn’t enough to trigger the usual anticipation I feel when starting my evening classes. The gentle warm up exercises felt anything but gentle. I began to dread the full onslaught of the pain and discomfort when told to lift the kettlebell and the class would begin in earnest!

Unfortunately I was in the second row from the front so a quick escape, unnoticed, would be impossible! I had no choice. I had to soldier on! And soldier on a I did! I have set myself certain standards over the years and had to maintain them! I was with a number of friends who attend the circuit classes so couldn’t let myself down. I had to work through the next 45 minutes as though I was a capable, fit and energetic woman and not the exhausted old lady I was feeling!

It was a long 45 minutes! I had to almost scrape myself off the floor when we stood up after the last exercise. I dropped my 45kg kettlebell (it had morphed as the class progressed) unceremoniously onto the mat and struggled through the cooling down session. The deep breaths were short pants and, for someone who never sweats, I had left my DNA on the mat and liberally sprinkled around the floor.

Saturday morning was a challenge just to get out of bed. Sunday morning I needed help, empathising with all the people who battle with their mobility, just to stand up every time I managed to sit down, choosing high chairs over comfortable sofas.

But Monday has dawned, albeit grey and damp and I am alive, mobile (thankfully because my carer has gone to work) and ready to confront the pile of ironing (yuck) in the kitchen. I’ll have my morning walk later, visit Mum and go to the circuit class this evening, a sucker for punishment! But I am grateful that, at my ripe old age of ….. I can lead this energetic life and hope to follow in the footsteps of a good friend, who, at 72, joins me in the classes and is an inspiration to us all! 👠

I’ve shared my feelings about caring for my mother with Alzheimer’s. I’ve explained the effects this devastating disease has had on both her and her family but yesterday I got a glimpse into the mental torture dementia can have on a spouse.

There was no carer available to accompany my Mum and I on our weekly visit to the tea room. This happens quite regularly so I have had to think of ways to make my visits fun and memorable while sitting in her room or in the main sitting area. I give her manicures, we page through her photograph albums, we dance to ABBA and I try to jog her memory with past experiences we both shared. These visits aren’t spontaneous as Mum has minimal memory, not even able to recall anything from her past, so conversation is stilted and I find it hard to keep her interest.

But yesterday afternoon I caught a glimpse of a husband’s torment as he sat watching his wife struggling through this living hell. I noticed a new resident on Wednesday morning when my friend and I gave the exercise class. A lady sat quietly in the corner of the room, her eyes blank, not paying any attention to her surroundings. I tried to get her to open and close her hands as my friend began her ‘warm up’. There was no response.

My Mum was standing up in the sitting room when I arrived, watching the television with the words to the tune ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ showing at the bottom of the screen. Mum loves dancing and music and fortunately this love has remained with her throughout this debilitating illness. I looked around the sitting room and spotted the new lady sitting next to an elderly gentlemen and a younger woman who sat opposite. The elderly gentleman was holding the hand of the new resident and staring at her, patting her hand gently in time to the beat of the music. He began to sing quietly, his eyes filled with tears as he looked at his wife, her eyes blank and unresponsive. He didn’t waver, patting her hand gently, and singing quietly.

I felt as if I was intruding on this family and their pain so tried to persuade my Mum to come with me to her room. I had bought her some sweets and used these as a bribe. She wouldn’t move until the song ended! My eyes were drawn once more to the family in the corner. I watched as the new resident slowly began to mouth the words to the song. Her husband was still patting her hand gently, his eyes fixed on her face. Gradually, staring ahead, eyes still blank, more words came tumbling out. It was then that I looked at her husband. Tears were pouring down his cheeks as he stopped gently patting her hand, instead squeezing it tightly with both of his.

The song finished and I took my Mum’s hand and steered her gently to her room. I couldn’t banish the picture of that poor man’s face and thanked God that my father wasn’t alive to see his wife in this awful predicament. It would have broken his heart. He idolised her. My mother had nursed him through his dementia and now she is having to battle through her own in a care home.

My guilt surreptitiously began to surface. I looked at Mum munching contentedly through a packet of smarties. Pulling myself together I found some music on my phone and we danced around her room. Mum has thankfully reached the stage where she has found some contentment, of which I am very grateful.

Driving home I couldn’t stop crying, this time for the poor man. They were also tears of gratitude that life had spared my father this torment. But Mum has her caring family for support and the care home are very good to her. We can’t change the situation we are in so just have to knuckle down and make the most of where we are and what we have! Life goes on and so must we! 👠

I was out walking this morning. The sun was shining and, although the halcyon days of summer are now a distant memory, still warm enough to wear a sweater and not a thick coat.

I was worrying about two health issues in our family. I rang my daughter, the ex biology teacher, and discussed both with her. By the time I was half way up the dreaded hill, panting and probably blue in the face, one of my worries had been dismissed. The other one’s prognosis was good so I got to the top of the hill, took a deep breath and looked around me.

It was then that I was struck by the beauty of my surroundings. My mother in law used to often say that the little lanes leading from the bottom of our garden were typical of an English countryside. If the wild flowers by the roadside, the rolling fields on my right, dotted with contented grazing cattle and the corn crop on the left were typical, then I agree.

It was then that I had an epiphany (maybe a bit dramatic but that is how it felt)! I spend so much of my life worrying that I have little time to be grateful and miss out on life’s simple pleasures.

So I have decided that I am going to be more positive and make a concerted effort to stop worrying! I know this is easier said than done but I’ll keep the memory of that view on top of the hill this morning fixed firmly in my mind.

I’m sitting outside in the garden. The bird feeder is covered with birds and I’ve just seen a nut hatch join the blue, long tailed and great tits attacking the suet balls and peanuts. A buzzard is making his presence heard above me. The occasional noisy flutter of a fat wood pigeon’s wings as it swoops down to eat the pickings dropped from the bird feeder is broken only by the annoying shriek of a gull overhead. But it is a lovely, peaceful picture of a late summer afternoon in my garden of Eden.

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else or anyone else! This grateful feeling is good and I am going to work on enjoying life’s simple, wonderful pleasures. I have the time, so why not make the most of it! 👠

Yesterday we helped celebrate a birthday. Nothing unusual in that but it was a 100th birthday party and really special for a number of reasons.

As background, we moved to the United Kingdom from South Africa almost 28 years ago. None of us had mobile phones or email. Communication was a landline and an exchange of letters. My husband’s family were a huge help but lived in Yorkshire and we were in Cheshire. I had three cousins and an aunt on my father’s side of the family but none were local.

We had lived in Johannesburg, fast becoming the murder capital of the world. My husband is British and I was able to get a British passport. The children had South African passports but we resolved that issue later. Relocating to England was our escape!

I have never missed the security gates and double burglar bars on the windows. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, paranoid about our safety. We had a beautiful home with a swimming pool and a large garden. We had servants and both my husband and I had good jobs. My parents lived close by so were happy to babysit. We had it all?

Not until our children were helping a friend with administration work in the centre of Johannesburg and the ANC exploded a bomb in the next building. Fortunately the children were unharmed but it was very traumatic. Our neighbours and their friends were having dinner and forgot to lock the security gate. They were attacked and stabbed before being robbed of all their jewellery. We lived in a very good suburb but this violence was on our doorstep!

I digress! Leaving all our friends and family behind and having to start afresh was very difficult. Our neighbours were sociable but we had no history with them and I found this a hindrance. South Africans, probably because of the weather, were friendlier and more spontaneous. This was until we met the parents of our son’s first girlfriend. Both sets of parents taxied the children from one home to the other. We soon discovered that we had a lot in common and began to meet socially. The young relationship ended many years ago. No adult took sides and our friendship has grown over the years. It was the grandmother of my son’s first girlfriend who turned 100.

After 10 years we moved away from the Wirral but continued to meet up, often at a pub half way between the two homes. We have shared weddings and special occasions together. We have laughed and cried together. Not all occasions shared have been joyous, but that is when true friendship means so much. This birthday celebration yesterday was another milestone, a happy reunion and catching up with friends we haven’t seen for a number of years.

We paid tribute to a beautiful lady, still mentally astute but slightly frail. Her daughter, son-in-law, grandchildren and great grandchildren all celebrated with her. It was a glorious occasion and my husband and I felt honoured to be part of this close family gathering. 👠

Having lunch with your daughter is nothing unusual for all the mothers I know. But for me, who has worked most of my adult life and whose daughter lives hundreds of miles away, this is a very special occasion!

We had arranged to buy her and her husband’s birthday presents, have lunch and visit my mother. We managed two out of three, which, for my daughter with her frenetic lifestyle, is not bad!

Let me give you a taste of her last few days. She manages her husband’s surgery (he’s a Clinical Psychologist) and keeps horses, sheep, chickens, dogs and cats. On Monday night, a bank holiday in the UK, her puppy swallowed a sock! It was 10:30 pm. She rang all the out of office vets but none were available. Finally she contacted a vet in Thirsk which has a regular television programme and they agreed to treat the puppy. An hour later a long, stretched sock (the other dogs had been trying to prise it from the puppy) was produced and promptly discarded!

On Tuesday morning my daughter noticed her favourite ewe was having difficulty moving and breathing. I’ll spare the detail but maggots had attacked the poor animal and she was in obvious distress. She was loaded into the Land Rover and taken to the local vet. This unusually very hot and now wet summer has created its own problems and this is one of them.

Yesterday morning another ewe had fallen victim to maggots but could be treated in the field. This had caused the delay in my daughter’s departure, hence achieving two out of our three planned activities. The birthday gifts became cash to spend when time allowed!

We drove to Chester, one of our favourite cities and had our lunch. I introduced my daughter to a chai latte, we popped to the local supermarket to collect our parking ticket and made our way to my mother’s care home.

Mum was in the sitting room watching a dance video. She was loathe to leave, paying us minimal attention. The activities manager turned off the television (her suggestion) so we were able to take Mum to her room!

My daughter hadn’t seen her grandmother for a while. Mum recognised her face but couldn’t place her. This is normal as I am often introduced as her mother! But her behaviour changed. Mum became very animated and wanted to dance. Once more I played ABBA (its the only music I have on my phone!) and this is where she began to ‘show off ‘ by twisting and tap dancing, along with other steps and moves!

A short while later the care manager and her assistant joined us in Mum’s room, this time to meet my daughter. They have now met both my children, which is good because it helps to build a complete picture of her loving and caring family. My daughter shared some amusing memories of her time spent with her grandmother in South Africa. We left the care home still chuckling and feeling very positive. This visit, as with my son’s, was significantly better than I could ever have imagined!

I have two wonderful, caring children. I am very lucky. The down side is that I can’t see them as regularly as I would like. But that is life. It means that the times we do spend together are so special. Quality over quantity!

August had been a glorious month. We’ve finally had a summer, I am no longer cooped up in a stuffy hot office and I have seen both my children. A jolly good month indeed!👠