Jenny Burrell

With restrictions still firmly in place and no wish to fly off to ‘foreign climes’, we decide to visit the Isle of Wight. Friends had recommended a hotel, likening it to Fawlty Towers, so curiosity and a desperate desire for a break, found us in Southampton last Monday morning.

As usual, nothing ever goes exactly according to plan! We had a ferry booked for 4:00 pm. We were over an hour early so I rang the ferry company and asked if we could change our booking, ‘No problem’, came the cheery reply, ‘just let your hotel know your new ETA’.

We waited in the ferry queue, as usual choosing the wrong one! Ours hardly moved and time was marching on. Finally we arrived at the gatehouse and I showed the surly looking woman in the kiosk the bar code on my phone. I was told that we were an hour early. I could see my husband’s hackles beginning to rise. He doesn’t do queues at all well and was already irritated.

I explained about the ticket change and were told that it hadn’t been registered and the ferry was full! We were shown the exit and told to come back at 3:30 pm. After calling the ferry company again and being told that the person who had helped us earlier was new and had no right to change our booking, we got compensation and the early ferry! By the skin of our teeth!

The hotel was spotlessly clean. The staff were nothing like Fawlty Towers! My husband thought it was because the building was old and a bit ‘shabby chic’. I’ll find out when I see our friends again …. The seating in the dining room was arranged with care. The hotel was only three quarters full and we had to book for breakfast and dinner to avoid gridlock at the entrance. I couldn’t fault them. Masks were worn inside the hotel and only taken off when we sat down at our tables.

The weather was fantastic! Day one saw brilliant sunshine with highs of 24C. Almost too warm for my husband but just perfect for me! We walked to ‘The Needles’, originally four stacks of chalk but one had collapsed in a storm in the 1700’s. This collapsed stack was shaped like a needle, not the three remaining! They are detached from the headland and a lighthouse, which has saved many lives over the years, was built at the end if the third stack.

We visited the Old Battery which was initially built to protect the naval dockyards at Portsmouth from French invasions and now maintained by the National Trust. Further up the headland we saw the New Battery which was eventually used to secretly test British space rockets from the 1950’s to the 1970’s. Later, guns at both the Old and New Batteries were strategically placed to offer protection during both world wars. These guns were initially thrown into the sea when no longer in use, but were later salvaged for display!

Making our way back, twenty thousand steps later and a very happy Fitbit, we saw the different coloured rock formations along the cliff at Alum Bay. A spectacular sight with the sea shimmering in the brilliant sunshine. A two seater Spitfire flying circuits overhead was the cherry on the top for my husband! A day to remember, so different from the months stuck at home struggling to sort out my mother in law’s house and both mothers’ on-going probate issues!

The next morning dawned bright and sunny. After a good breakfast we headed off to Fort Victoria. Another challenge because the tide had only just begun to go out. We had to scramble over rocks and thick shrubs to reach the public footpath. Unfortunately we took a wrong turn at the fort so our circular walk wasn’t quite as expected. After trying to get wifi access as we had somehow gone ‘off piste’ we had to come back along the same path! Something we always try to avoid!

That afternoon we had booked a visit to Osbourne House, Queen Victoria’s ‘holiday cottage’! We donned our masks but were only allowed to enter in pairs and should have kept to these restrictions. However, this proved impractical. My husband likes to study and read up on every item displayed so we were soon overtaken. It did surprise and annoy me when members of the public seemed to forget the two metre rule and leaned over my shoulder to examine paintings. I had to remind a few of them! We wandered around the gardens and I loved all the old trees, shrubs and the masses of rhododendrons planted so many years ago and still flourishing. I decided that I could live there!

So, after a very enjoyable three days not having to worry about meals and away from unpleasant family disagreements, we drove to the ferry and headed home. Back to our new normal and already planning another few days away somewhere closer as the weather would soon be changing. We need to do our bit for the economy and the hospitality business!

I have always loved autumn. This year it is tinged with sadness and huge uncertainty. We have lost some dear family members and the coronavirus shows no signs of departing our fair shores! But the sun is still shining today and I watch as the leaves from our ash tree slowly lose their grip and flutter down on to the newly mown lawn. Life carries on. The seasons haven’t been affected. There is some normality still in this strange, troublesome world. Thankfully I don’t have a crystal ball. Imagine, on New Years Eve last year, I had peered into it and seen the misery and devastation of 2020! Just doesn’t bear thinking about! 👠

I am not happy about writing this blog but feel the need to share!

The old saying that you can chose your friends but not your family has struck home. I can now relate to this and it is not something that brings my husband and I any pleasure or comfort.

When my mother in law passed away she left her will and a ‘wish list’. We knew about her ‘wish list’ and her eldest son, my husband, was put in charge of its distribution. Two years ago I spent a very depressing Christmas Day listening to my mother in law’s detailed funeral and cremation service requests, the wake, her will and her ‘wish list’.

My mother in law was always fair and left her three sons, daughters in law and grandchildren jewellery, furniture and art work. My father was a renowned South African artist so our walls were full! I have had to make way for some of my husband’s inheritance so paintings have been mothballed. However, the 18th century sideboard, beautiful as it is, was too big to fit into our house even when we had made the space!

My mother in law had barely passed away before the youngest son and his wife were in the house. They did kindly tidy up but also, much to the annoyance of my husband, threw out food stuff, some not passed their sell by dates, clothing and other ‘things’ deemed worthless. They rearranged rooms and removed bedding. This baffled me because no one had discussed their ‘new role’ and I felt that my husband should have been informed before any household items were removed. But, as the ‘in law’, I took a back seat and didn’t get involved.

This is where I made my first mistake. There are ways of offering subtle advice without being nosey and interfering! Alas, my husband always sees the best in people and certainly never had any cause to doubt the honesty of his younger brother and his wife. Because I also like to be fair and take a balanced view, my husband didn’t immediately let his brothers know about the handful of items, all worthless but with strong sentimental value, that he had taken. I’m presuming this oversight, and it genuinely was an oversight, will always be regretted. Was this the catalyst youngest brother and wife needed to help themselves?

This is what I should have done. Taken a photograph and sent it to the two brothers. A couple of weeks later I did have a conversation with youngest brother’s wife after finding items missing. I stressed that, if any of us wanted anything, to let everyone know. I once more apologised for our initial oversight. My husband had been so busy trying to sort out probate, mail, bank accounts, and many administrative nightmares involved in the death of a loved one. He also didn’t think that anyone would have wanted the two ornaments and a fire guard!

Our tastes are very different and I was sure that we could all easily be accommodated. But we needed transparency and I was determined to try my level best to avoid any family fallout. My mother in law had so many problems with her sister and brother in law removing family heirlooms. Unfortunately both her siblings had died first. To perpetuate this debacle would be unforgivable! All three brothers were aware of the unpleasantness and extreme pain this had caused their mother!

The first incident occurred when a large number of semi precious ‘eggs’ went ‘missing’. Being generally unobservant, my husband and I had noticed different arrangements on shelves and empty spaces so decided to become more ‘aware’. But the hole in the huge bowl of ‘eggs’ was obvious! After my sister in law adamantly insisted that she had only taken four for her daughter, younger brother felt bad and brought eighteen back! This only partly filled the hole!

I am sitting on the floor in an almost empty house which feels as if it has been ransacked. Youngest brother and wife, over the weeks, have systematically removed objects of value. When questioned they decided that one of my mother in law’s neighbours, who has kept an eye on the house and my mother in law over the years, must be a thief! So they changed the front door lock. This has not stopped the ‘thefts’!

What I find so incredibly sad is that the majority of the china and trinkets they have taken are because of their value and not because they genuinely like them. I know that my mother in law would have loved having her precious china and trinkets adorn her boys houses. Taking these objects is not the issue. It’s the reason why they were taken, to sell for their own gain, which is so distasteful!

So, a second generation continues along this path of greed and selfishness. Another family is torn apart. As the years go by I wonder if youngest brother and wife will look back with any regrets? Or will they continue to self righteously insist that they were owed the extra money and that the breakup of a family was worthwhile? We’ll probably never know. 👠

I need to change. No, I have got to change the habit of a lifetime! I have reached the stage where options have run out and I am staring into an abyss of medication and potential health issues for the rest of my life.

As anyone who knows me can vouch that I do a really good worry. And an even better panic! I can go from zero to manic in a spilt second! However, while I’m almost levitating and my blood pressure has reached astronomical levels, I hear a little voice!

I have a very brief moment of lucidity as this tiny voice of reason tries desperately hard to be heard. It pleads with me to calm down and be rational! But that’s the problem. The voice is far too soft and immediately gets ignored! Years of listening to an irrational foghorn, which takes control at the drop of a hat, drowns out anything else!

It triggers physical side effects, starting with a pounding heart. I feel rather than see a nightmare unfolding. But it’s not a dream that I can wake up and the nightmare is over! It’s reality! Worst case scenarios, each one more awful and debilitating than the last, come rushing at me from all angles! At this stage I can feel my chest beginning to heave as I desperately try to control my breathing.

This is not a ‘panic attack’ which I have heard is very unpleasant! This is an anxiety episode brought on by something I have found shocking that has happened ‘out if the blue’! The imagery that follows is based around a specific phone call, a sudden health scare or bad news in whatever form, relating to my family. These are examples but all linked to a tangible, physical situation. This is not a red mist of rage or anger. I have little problems with basic self control. This is when I suddenly experience uncontrollable fear!

And still the little voice doesn’t give up and quietly persists through my torment. Eventually, when I have examined all angles, got as much information as possible and analysed the situation, again and again, I do finally stop and listen to the little voice.

But, alas, the emotional and physical stress I have inflicted on my body over the years is getting harder to ignore and even harder to heal. Fortunately this is not a regular occurrence, but enough to have left it’s mark!

All these years of constant worry, a stressful job, some medical negligence and bad life choices have led me to this point. I have hypertension, which now has to be medically treated and monitored. Unfortunately, as with all medication, it comes with side effects which can sometimes be worse that the complaint!

And then bring on months of lockdown living in virtual isolation, gyms shut so even exercise, my cure all, is curtailed! Of course my husband and I can get out and walk, which we do. We have discovered many new routes and try to make them as interesting as possible. But there is always the British weather! There are days when even trying to duck the showers doesn’t make walking possible.

Not one to give up without a fight I have decided to try looking at alternative options to control these anxiety ‘attacks’ and bring my blood pressure down naturally. A dose of pragmatism wouldn’t go amiss either! Mindfulness has been around for a while. I have a friend who swears by it’s physical as well as mental powers. Just being able to take a step back under pressure would be so good! And learn to listen to the voice of reason before the foghorn takes over!

A few weeks ago I downloaded a suggested app. I try to devote half an hour in the morning to relaxation and positive imagery. I cannot expect miracles. My brain has to be rewired, which will definitely take time! It’s old and not very flexible! It’s locked into panic mode! Im probably going to subconsciously hang on to this habitual space for a while!

But I need to allow the quiet voice of reason more ‘air’ time. I have nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain! I’m not going to be greedy or unrealistic! Hopefully patience, definitely not a virtue, will be allowed a chance to grow as well!

It’s early days and I’ll have some good and some not so good. I am a negative realist! I always err on the side of caution! But, stranger things have happened! Perhaps even this aged leopard can change her spots! Watch this space …… 👠

Grandchildren are so special! Even when they live in another country, which prevents us from having a close relationship with them, I would hate to think about a life without them! They are an integral part of our family and a topic of conversation when we speak to either our son or daughter in law!

My thoughts are tinged with some sadness when I go back over the years since they were born. We have never had the privilege of being ‘just down the road’. My husband and I both worked so it was only ever weekend visits. As they got older we used to meet half way on a Saturday morning and take them back on a Sunday evening. This is the closet we ever got to spending extended quality time with them and I cherish these memories.

My mother was still alive when the family lived close enough for weekend visits. I wanted her to see them too so we often arranged either a Saturday afternoon outing, which included her, or I’d take the children to visit on the Sunday morning. We’d plan something special for the children on Saturday afternoons and visited many museums, soft play areas, Legoland and even took my grandson to Anfield to see Liverpool’s football ground. We also visited their overpriced shop for a memento!

We did have some very amusing incidents. One that springs to mind was the Saturday we packed a picnic lunch, collected my mother and drove to a small beach in Wales. It was early March and not warm! As usual, there was a coastal wind which lowered the temperature quite significantly. The children were ‘layered up’ but my mother and I definitely weren’t adequately prepared! It had not been long since my father had passed away. My mother was quite depressed and kept on looking up at the sky, making comments about the clouds. There were a lot of them! She decided to stay in the car.

My grandson took one look at the sea shore and shot off, followed closely by Grandad, who couldn’t wait to explore the rock pools! That left my granddaughter and I not showing their level of excitement! Taking her hand we walked slowly down the steps and onto the sand with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, but I tried!

Alas, my granddaughter wasn’t impressed with the cold, the wind and the stinging sand. She was also feeling hungry so we soon headed back to the car finding my mother standing outside and staring up at the sky. I opened the boot and gave my granddaughter her juice bottle and poured a cup of tea from the flask for my mother and I. The warm liquid was very soothing. We were soon finding shelter at the side of the car as we ate our ham sandwiches, watching the two boys pouring over the rock pools.

My grandson eventually ran back up the beach and was soon tucking into his sandwich and a drink. All replete we strapped the children into their seats with my mother, the arbiter, in the middle. Not far down the road my granddaughter wanted some juice and asked me for her bottle. After explaining that I had given it to her earlier there followed an altercation with her brother when she asked if she could have a sip of his.

‘No,’ came his prompt reply. ‘You’ll spit all over it!’

‘Granny, please tell him I won’t spit on his juice bottle!’ she wailed.

My mother was trying to hold the peace and asked her great grandson to let his sister have a sip of his juice.

‘No’! He was adamant. She’s probably sitting on her bottle with her fat bottom!’

My husband pretended that nothing was happening but I needed to prevent a world war!

‘Let’s play ‘I Spy’’, I suggested. We’ll find your bottle just now. Let your brother start.

And then it was my granddaughter’s turn ‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘wuh’’.

We tried everything starting with a W or an R! My granddaughter became more animated begging us to give up! Finally, to her delight, we did.

‘Wosie Pwimwose!’ She shouted in glee. ‘I win!’

That was the onset of world war three. My grandson yelled at his sister. ‘You are so stupid! How can you ask us if we can see your friend’s hamster Rosie Primrose!’

My husband stopped the car and we searched for the missing juice bottle. My granddaughter was sitting on it, much to the delight of her brother! I had also discovered that marshmallows were a cure all so the rest of the journey was quiet and largely uneventful.

My grandchildren are growing up so fast. My grandson is sixteen and his sister will be thirteen in October. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to travel to America again. Certainly not anytime soon!

But, one day, the world will get back to normal. We’ll meet up again and make some more precious memories. I can’t wait ………..👠

This has not been a good year for anyone. We’ve all suffered through the Covid lockdown which has brought its own challenges. But I have also lost a number of family members, which has been devastating.

I have explained, in earlier blogs, about the loss of my mother and mother in law. My husband’s brother lost his long term partner last month. These deaths have been heartbreaking. My mother, mother in law and sister in law had underlying health issues but this did not make their deaths any less painful.

But, a few days ago, my cousin, only sixty two, passed away from Covid. This death I find very difficult to process and understand the total devastating loss felt by his family.

My mother’s younger sister was her best friend. We grew up together as one big happy family in a small town in South Africa. My childhood was based around this close family unit and I look back on those years with much happiness. I am five months older than my eldest cousin. We remain close even though I now live in England. Her brother, who has just sadly passed away and my brother, were soul mates. They could play together for hours with never a cross word coming between them!

We moved to another town when I was fifteen and then marriage and children led us along different paths. But we never lost touch. In 2018 my husband and I spent a wonderful two weeks in South Africa with my cousin and her husband. She arranged a couple of days visiting her brother and his wife and we remember this time filled with much fun, laughter and reminiscing.

He was a real character, one of life’s gentlemen and loved his family above all else. He had retired so spent his days fishing and wandering along the beach front fascinated by the many ever-changing rock pools. He thoroughly enjoyed having the time to ‘do his own thing’ after years in a very stressful job. He had a telescope facing the sea and loved watching dolphins swim past his veranda. He was one of the most contented, happy and relaxed people I knew and I envied his deep sense of inner peace.

So it is with a very heavy heart that I will never see him again. This time last year his son had arranged a hospitality suite at Manchester United, the team he avidly supported for many years. His younger sister lives in England and they were in London for his nephew’s wedding. We live much closer to Manchester so my cousin and his brother in law visited us for the weekend.

They arrived on the Friday evening and we had a marvellous time catching up on family news. They were both so excited and couldn’t wait for Saturday! It was my cousin’s dream come true! Their ‘challenge’ catching a tram and losing each other on their return journey, was hysterical. A barbecue aided by a few beers brought this fun packed day to and end. Waving them both off on Sunday morning, after a full English breakfast, I would never have guessed that it was going to be the final farewell. I would never have believed it possible! Life could not be that cruel?

But, alas, a year later, I sat in the office watching my South African family celebrating the life of a much loved, respected and devoted husband, father, son, brother, family member and dear friend! He has left wonderful memories and a lasting legacy to ensure he’ll be gone but never forgotten.

Rest In Peace.

Slowly getting back to normal and weather finally realising that it’s summer, we invited friends over for a fish barbecue. I needed to keep it simple and ensure that the table setting was conducive to social distancing!

I remain wary and over cautious. I see neighbours having friends from mixed families inside their houses and still get really annoyed when they blatantly flout the rules! We need to get this damn virus under control and it’s not only youngsters who selfishly disobey the law! It’s also adults who should have more sense!

As always, the weather rules these barbecues! I have three apps and they were regularly checked throughout the day and this became more frequent as the afternoon progressed! I did have a choice, either the patio without any overhead protection, or the Teak House, the thatched gazebo at the bottom of our garden. The latter is not as practical because we have to cross the lawn and get wet!

But on Friday afternoon the weather behaved and I laid the patio table. I prepared the salad ingredients and decided to use a new potato recipe I had seen on the television a few days earlier. I had written down the ingredients but not the quantities so that was going to be a challenge! I tried finding the recipe on Google but couldn’t manage this simple task so had to use my sensitive(?) palate instead!

I have a problem with timing. For years working as a Treasurer for a busy multi national company I had a system and a tick box for month ends. This had been honed over many years and was my comfort blanket to ensure nothing was missed. Now that I am a ‘lady of leisure’ and a ‘housewife’ I have no routine for housework or general chores and muddle my way through them. I’m obviously not too bothered so do them only when and if necessary. If I didn’t struggle with chaos it would probably be a lot worse!

Our guests were due to arrive at 6:30 pm. I had the afternoon to prepare and there wasn’t a huge amount I had to do. For dessert we were having strawberries soaked in a Cassis liqueur (my husband’s favourite recipe) and just meant him pouring copious amounts of liquid into the bowl and giving the strawberries an occasional stir! The fish was ready just to put on the barbecue. So why was I rushing around at 6:15 pm in my ‘glad rags’, salad ingredients still draining, potatoes overcooked and the cheese still buried somewhere in the fridge.

But, thankfully, they were late and all was ready when their car pulled into the drive. My husband met them at the garden gate. The weather, uncharacteristically, behaved really well. We had a super evening and almost five hours later we waved them goodbye. My husband, also uncharacteristically, offered to tidy up. So, dishwasher packed and turned on, I soaked in a hot bath and went to bed.

I really enjoyed that feeling of normality. I also thoroughly enjoyed catching up with our dear friends and having a good laugh. That is what life should be more about! Not the doom and gloom, panic and fear that has been my almost constant companion for the last five months!

I’ve tasted freedom and hope to sample it again soon ……👠

I feel almost ‘normal’ again! I’ve had my nails done!

I’ve had acrylic nails for twenty years. Just before lockdown I decided to change to gel. It would be easier to maintain, less harmful and cheaper! Being a lady of leisure, but still having to do housework and gardening, I needed more than just nail varnish. My nails had become so thin and quite painful. What we women don’t go through in the name of vanity!

So, with some trepidation as beauty salons had only just opened, I went to my appointment. The young lady, who has been my mani and pedicurist for many years, had moved during lockdown to a converted garage at her home. Rent was exorbitant at her previous salon and the landlord had not helped during the crisis.

My material mask was really uncomfortable. It was too big. I had adjusted the elastic ear straps which only made matters worse! It changed the shape of my ears and was impossible to wear my hearing aid! My glasses fogged up and, having ‘verifocals’ meant that I had to wear them correctly or life became a hazy blur. Not ideal when shopping! And I couldn’t breathe!

So I bought a box of fifty paper masks and left some in a plastic bag with hand sanitiser in the car. I was prepared. I set the sat nav and left home in time to accommodate any potential delays caused by the lack of a ‘direction’ gene. There was no waiting room if I arrived early so ideally would get to my destination on time!

The house was easy to find so pulled up outside with a few minutes to spare. Time to adjust the mask and ensure nose and mouth prioperly covered. It fitted significantly better than the material one and I could breathe! A nice bonus. New nail growth had replaced the soft acrylic side effects so ready just to gel and paint. I had also booked a pedicure so would be able to start wearing open sandals again!

I walked into the new salon and was immediately struck by the clean, light and relaxing ambiance. My apprehension slipped away and was replaced by a feeling of peace and calm. The room had been tastefully decorated with Covid security firmly in place. I felt safe in the knowledge that the risk was minimal and I could spend the next couple of hours just enjoying the experience.

I have become very fond of the young clinician and always admired her work ethic and professionalism. If anyone deserved to do well she did! There were times when she had worked seven day weeks to cover expenses. Her parents have been very supportive but have instilled in her the need to make the business a success by hard work, strict discipline and a determination to succeed. They must be very proud of her!

It was good to catch up on news and I always chuckle when I have my pedicure. The young lady has some knowledge of reflexology and I wait for her to advise which part of my body is either under or not performing! I often joke that I feel well when I arrive but who knows what fatal illness I have when I leave!

I walked out of the salon feeling as if I’d had a good holiday! Relaxed and very happy with my bright psychedelic orange nails, I threw the mask in the bin and headed back home. An afternoon well spent! Self indulgence but, hey, I’m worth it! 👠

We’ve recently replaced the roof on our conservatory. It’s tiled and we’ve had the ceiling plastered. Looked good but needed painting, both the ceiling and the walls. Not a problem! My husband and I have always had experts in to do these kind of jobs. We both worked full time so justified the expense.

But we are at home all day, semi self-isolating, so painting a ceiling and a few walls would be a doddle! We settled on the colours, white for the ceiling and a colour similar to the previous shade for the walls. We went to a specialist paint shop and came out carrying paint, rollers and two paint trays. My husband has plenty of brushes so, let the fun begin !

I refused to paint the ceiling! Definitely a ‘blue’ job! I smoothed off the surface of the first short wall beneath the windows. I have heard that it’s all about the preparation! My husband used his fancy new ‘transformer’ ladder! It can be folded into two parts with a ledge in the middle. He placed a roller, filled tray and a roll of paper towel onto the ledge . He told me that he had slightly diluted the paint as suggested, for the first coat. He’s good at reading instructions! Not my strong point! So we were both ‘prepared’ and raring to go!

I put tape over the skirting boards and brought a cushion from the kitchen to soften my seat. I began to paint. It was with some surprise that I noticed the colour on the tin was not the same colour that I was carefully spreading over the wall. It was bright canary yellow! I panicked.

‘Wait until it dries’ came the dulcet tones of Picasso as he spread his paint professionally across the ceiling. ‘Just paint the rest of that wall and we’ll make a judgement call later’. I obeyed, of course I would! I bowed to his superior knowledge! He’s the scientist and I, the mere accountant! We decided to leave it overnight to dry thoroughly.

The next morning we went back into the conservatory. In the bright sunlight the canary yellow paint sparkled! I shielded my eyes! It was glaringly bright! Neither of us could imagine the whole room painted in that fluorescent yellow! It had to go!

We looked up at the ceiling. Some of the paint had completely soaked into the plaster and some, applied thicker, actually looked white. ‘Not to worry’, my husband tried to act blasé, ‘it’ll probably need another couple more coats’. That was the start of day two.

So, back to the specialist paint shop. We carefully went through the colour charts and chose a more subdued shade called ‘apricot’. My husband bought another tin of white paint because, he had decided, the problem could have been the age of the paint. Well over ten years! He’s a Yorkshireman ……

Back into the conservatory after lunch, positive and ready to get the job done. The colour was much better but the canary yellow wall would need a second coat. My husband was working on the one side of the room and I sat on my cushion in the other, humming away, happy as Larry!

We broke for afternoon tea and sat down on two chairs we’d carried from the packed sitting room. We watched as shadows moved across the windows and all seemed well. I looked up at the ceiling. Roller strokes were clearly visible and there were a number of darker patches. I pointed this out to Picasso and was told to wait until the paint had dried. I proudly looked across at my wall, still a long way to go but looking much better!

After our cups of tea we headed back to our jobs. I finished another small wall, carefully trying not to mess any paint under the window sill. It had become a painstakingly tedious job. I alternated between mini roller and small paint brush. Very slow, but wanted to get it right.

After wall number three I called it a day and went inside to start the evening meal. Picasso honourably offered to clean the utensils and I gave one last look at my handiwork. Day two and I had only painted three small walls with one needing a second coat. I was slightly concerned that we were now going to take longer than our three day deadline! Perhaps the ceiling would be completed by tomorrow and both of us could get started on the large wall.

Day three and we both went into the conservatory to admire our handiwork. No shadows to mar the view and the paint had dried. The ceiling still looked blotchy. I didn’t have to say anything. The look on my husband’s face said it all!

‘I knew that paint was too thick and I probably used the wrong roller. Should have bought the thinner one! I’ll go round with a paint brush and smooth over the patches!’

My walls looked ok. I was beginning to feel smug until I realised that my husband had given the canary yellow wall a second coat and there was as much paint under the windowsill as there was on the wall. Looking up I noticed gaps between the windows and the ceiling and the plastic frames were covered in paint!

So I started the clean up while my husband worked on the ceiling. In silence I painted the space between the window frame and the ceiling with a tiny artists’s paintbrush to avoid further smudging. It was painstaking slow. ‘Happy Larry’ hadn’t lasted long!

We missed out a day going back to Leeds to meet with the estate agent to get my mother in law’s house on the market. . The next day, Friday, I had my hair done and my husband went shopping. I cleaned the house in the afternoon and stayed away from the conservatory. We both needed a break.

Saturday dawned bright and sunny. We had a long walk and then went back to our painting jobs. The small walls were finished and the ceiling looked better. My husband decided to tackle the huge wall with its slanted edges and strange angles. If we thought we were having problems before, we were in for an even greater shock. The line between the white ceiling and the coloured wall proved a step too far!

My husband tried freehand with my tiny artist’s paint brush. He is a perfectionist and it didn’t meet his standards (or mine!). He taped the edge of the ceiling and painted the top of the wall. Carefully he pealed off the tape and we both watched in horror as the white and the apricot paint came off in patches!

That evening we nursed gin and tonics with our backs to the offensive mess and thought seriously about Plan B! But Picasso was not ready to give up just yet.

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny. We read the papers, went for a walk, had a light lunch and stepped back inside our prison. I had my job. I cleaned the windowsills after removing as much paint as I could from beneath! I carefully scraped the paint off the skirting boards. I had removed most from the window frames so felt that we were almost there!

Once more my husband, who had painted the ceiling the evening before, carefully stuck tape back along the edge. He painted the wall. We had our tea and then he went back to peal off the tape.

Monday dawned, wet and miserable. I got a few names of painters from friends and can report that a kind gentleman will be coming to ‘cut in all the corners and edges to improve the aesthetics’ on the 28th! Two weeks time!

We’re moving back in today. I have been reassured the mess will be minimal and all furniture covered. I’m leaving painting to the professionals! I admire and respect them! Picasso and I will stick to our garden and start putting money back into the economy …… 👠

I had to go to A&E in the early hours of Sunday morning. At 2:00 a m I was lying in a private ward wired up to a heart monitor! Isn’t life a ‘funny’ thing!

I had had a bad week. My husband and I had spent hours trying to sort out my mother in law’s house to get it ready for the estate agent’s photographs. De- personalising a much loved home was not easy! Include family ‘issues’ on an almost monumental scale and then throw in someone who can redefine the word panic! That was my Thursday.

I bounced frenetically between trying to calm down and getting really annoyed, conversations buzzing wildly round and round in my head! That was my Friday. By Saturday morning I was left feeling anxious, stressed and exhausted! The weather, having rained heavily for the last couple of days, did allow my husband and I to risk a quick walk before the heavens opened once again.

The ‘piece de resistance’ was my medication increase which my GP, in his infinite wisdom, had decided was going to solve my hypertension problem! Even though I told him that the tablets were not working and offered proof, doctors know best! The most common side effects are swollen ankles and palpitations. I had suffered with these for over a week. By Saturday evening I felt as if I was walking on stumps and my rapid pulse rate was frightening! There was nothing I could do to calm myself down. I had a long hot soaking bath (don’t know if this was a good or bad idea!) and went to bed early.

I tried the breathing exercises that a friend and a councillor had suggested. I sat in a ‘relaxed’ position and concentrated on each breath. All I could hear was my tinnitus ear screeching back at me, drowning out all logic or, heaven forbid, any useful suggestions! By 1:00 a m I gave up and went downstairs. I rang 111 and was told to go to A&E! This news did not help and was totally unexpected! I staggered upstairs and got my husband out of bed. I threw on jeans and a jumper. For the first time in many years I left the house without war paint, feeling very old, very vulnerable and very scared!

I felt as if I was heading into a deep, dark abyss! Not only did I have a potential heart problem, but contracting a fatal disease was the other option. Forty minutes later I bade my husband farewell and walked down that fateful corridor, through doors which slid silently open then shut firmly behind me. No way out. Shivering uncontrollably I squirted antiseptic gel into my hands and put on a mask. My glasses immediately fogged up as I began to hyperventilate!

The waiting room was almost empty. Only two young people sat at either end, most of the chairs cordoned off. I blindly made my way to reception, gave my details and was told to sit down. A few minutes later I was called into a section in an open corridor now used as a triage. My blood pressure and pulse rates were very high, further proof that the medication was not working! I was kitted out for an ECG and had a cannula fitted in my arm for easy access to testing. ‘Try and relax, luv,’ was a common, fruitless theme.

Three hours later I was told that I could go home. Two ECGs and probably two pints of blood down, nothing appeared to be a cause for concern. I was told to contact my GP on Monday. An update from the hospital would be available and a twenty four hour heart monitor highly recommended. The two doctors were caring and waived aside my embarrassment by assuring me that I had done the right thing. Barring a token drunk periodically making herself heard, the evening had been very quiet.

I was expecting full PPE! Just masks were the order of the day, or night, in this case! None of the nurses or doctors had tested positive for Covid. An empty A&E department was something I would never have imagined possible! And over the weekend!

But my timing was probably right! Not at all expected nor wanted but I think I chose the best time to pay my visit! Tomorrow the pubs and restaurants reopen, albeit Covid friendly, but there are many selfish, ignorant people living in this country! Alcohol fuelled stabbings and other pre Covid accidents will bring their usual casualties back to A&E! Life will gradually get back to normal. Not always the parts of normal we enjoy or are particularly proud of! 👠

It’s been a funny old week! Now that lockdown has eased slightly we have taken the opportunity to spend time at my mother in law’s house. We need to get it ready to put on the market. Significantly easier said than done!

My mother in law has a house full of china and collectibles. She was always so proud of her ‘things’ and often walked me around her home explaining the history and value of these trinkets. It was the first time I had heard of a bread fork. My mother in law has dozens!

She also left a house full of clothes, shoes, crockery, cutlery, bottles of different drinks, tins, home made jams and chutneys and a fridge and two deep freezers packed to capacity! Just in case there was a Third World War and she couldn’t get out for months, or, in my mother in law’s case, years!

So, when she passed away in March, there was a huge challenge to get the house sale ready. She had three sons who each had a partner. I’m the wife of the eldest. The next son’s partner has been very unwell for a number of years and we haven’t seen them since the end of 2018. The youngest son and his wife are actively involved in all things family. They have also taken it upon themselves to make a start on cleaning and tidying up the house.

Before I continue, let me explain. My mother in law wasted nothing! She even made lettuce soup if there were a few straggly leaves that needed eating! Her deep freezers bore testimony to her extreme frugality. There are many small bundles of frozen food wrapped in cling film, contents unknown, carefully fitted into tiny available spaces.

The youngest son’s wife had a house cleaning business. When my mother in law was alive I used to help by keeping her kitchen clean. A chore not enjoyed but one of necessity. She had a cleaner for an hour once a week who ‘did’ her bedroom, washed the bedding and gave the bathrooms a ‘once over’. The kitchen was rarely scrubbed to my standards. Throw in my serious gluten problem and surfaces filled with crumbs of every gluten ilk had to go!

So that was my by-weekly chore. My youngest sister in law, the actual cleaner, used to tidy up and make the rooms look ‘pretty’. However, when my mother in law passed away her and my brother in law came into their own. They scrupulously cleaned the house.

They also filled garbage bag after garbage bag and wheelie bin after wheelie bin with everything they thought had passed its sell by dates. Even if it hadn’t! Bring in my husband who has inherited his mother’s frugal gene. When I say that he went ballistic, this is no overstatement! And my mother in law would be looking down in utter disgust and equally incensed as she watched her world war three rations disrespectfully swept away with gay abandon!

On every subsequent visit my husband has dug out tinned and bottled food, clothing, cushions, trays, bowls and more food. Furious! Turning the air many shades of blue!

The middle brother sadly lost his partner a few weeks ago so we still haven’t seen him and he has not been to the house. Two extremes. The youngest and his wife were constant visitors and phoned every day. They involved themselves in all aspects of my mother in law’s life, medical care, friends, family and neighbours. My husband and I chugged along somewhere in the middle, very aware that my mother in law hated fuss and we respected her refusal to give up her independence!

Things have gone missing over the last few months. Lack of communication caused some unpleasantness as presumptions created a blame culture and eventually had to be confronted to prevent a family fallout! What has transpired is that a number of front door keys were handed out (last count was ten!) so theft unfortunately has taken place.

The front door lock has been changed. All the family are on speaking terms once more and I am hopeful that communication channels will remain freely open and accessible. Life is too short to bear grudges and I refuse to quibble over small pieces of china or the disappearance of semi precious stone eggs. Not having the frugal gene I have easily moved on. There is nothing I can do about the ‘criminal’ waste. My husband made a concerted effort to minimise it but had to be reigned in when it got out of hand! Our food cupboards are fast becoming replicas of his mother’s!

We have one last hurdle to climb before the estate agent arrives with his camera. Every appliance box has been kept for the last umpteen years! The contents of a huge store room are going to be moved into the loft and will become a challenge for another day! That’s our job for next week. Let’s wait and see who gets them back down when they’ll fill garbage bag after garbage bag and wheelie bin after wheelie bin …… 👠