Blogmas 2023

It may be the season to be jolly, but for many people, Christmas, and the anticipation and build up to Christmas is a time of tension and stress... For me, it has always been this way.... For many years, (29), i lived "down South" or "Dawn Sarf" as we say in Essex... I either worked on Christmas Day, or i shared the stress of Christmas with my best, and long suffering friend Nikki and her family and we merged the families, food, jollies all together.... That worked really well until my mum became more poorly and decided after moving to and from Essex three times and finally, in the September of 2013, mother dearest decided that she could not settle, and wanted to move back to Liverpool.... Suffice to say, I moved back to Liverpool to care for her as the boys had left home to go on their adventures at Music College and University and only appeared looking hungry or with a bin bag of washing for me to do... So here I am, ten years into being back in Liverpool. Another Christmas is looming around the corner... My boys are older now, and although they do appear over the Christmas week, one lives in Essex, and the other has his own family. My birthday falls between Christmas and New Year, so my boys will always be here to celebrate with me. Usually, I am fairly organised, I buy Christmas presents throughout the year, so Christmas shopping is not too scary, although some of my friends give donations to charities instead of buying cards and gifts... I have thought this a great way of celebrating with the "feel good" factor and helping (in my case) Dogs Trust or Spanish Rescues.... So, some weeks back, after spending £41 sending Christmas Cards through Royal Mail, I thought this would be the way forward... instead of giving presents, we can dontate... except for the children, and grandchildren... Initially, it seemed to go down well, but then it wasn't... I do lots of fund raising and donating to charities anyway, we sponsor a donkey, a lurcher at Dogs Trust, I fund raise for a Spanish rescue and we have three Spanish rescue dogs, and our son's cockerpoo. Last Christmas, Christmas Day was lovely - it was just my husband and i and our doggies.... The boys and my step daughter arrived on Boxing Day when somehow, the pressure is off, and we celebrated then, and on my birthday. This year seems not to be going to plan... There appears to be stress and conflict already over what is happening, who is bringing what, who wants what, the list goes on.... The husband now wants me to delete his families numbers from my phone as i cannot do right for doing wrong... It is now only the 19th December and we have another six days to go... For those of you having stress in your build up to Christmas, here are two of my suggestions as to how to survive it... Focus on What You Enjoy about Christmas - If you’re anticipating a stressful Christmas, acknowledge it, and try to remind yourself that you’re not alone. Most families struggle at this time of year. Try to focus on an element of Christmas you do enjoy. Remember that nobody is perfect and it is only one day. Develop New Traditions - If you have joined a family, like I did 9 years ago, suggest new traditions. Try to blend the old with the new. Do not drink too much!! - it might seem a good way to get through the season, but really, it is unlikely to present the best you to everyone and can be embaressing afterwards! Finally - Good Luck!!

Another Empty Nest September 2019

Wow... this last few weeks has gone in a flash! My second son, who moved back home from London in February, has now moved into his own little house which he has bought with his girlfriend just 9 miles away... - I did want him to move to the same road, but her family live near by in the town they have moved to, and son 2 is happy to go with the flow... I really did not expect to have this empty nest feeling all over again, but he has been gone for 15 days today and i am still going into his bedroom to have a little cry... I am missing him being here - I miss having that daily contact with him, when he comes in from work, what he wants to eat, how his day was, what his plans are for the evening....and i suppose, not being the most important part of his life anymore - he would stay at his girlfriends a lot of the time when he was home, but he has not been back home except for his step sister's birthday..... We keep saying we will take some clothes over or some of his furniture - but no... they do not want it yet... they are busying themselves with starting their own lives and decorating first. Having said that, we have been over three times and they have been here once - but it is not the same... I feel quite bereft - although it is not the first time this son has left home - he did leave when he was 16 years old and knew everything - he moved in with his father, who was always more of his friend than a parent, and at home it was difficult, my mother was staying with us at that time recuperating from a complicated fracture and high emotive states as her husband had died only weeks before... Our relationship was very fractured for a long time, but once he moved on to music college when he was 18, he seemed more mature and more able to have a conversation with me without looking like teenagers do - with that look of disdain as if we know nothing!! I feel now that i am missing out... Gone are those lovely long university holidays, the long Christmas holidays, deadlines to get work in and panicking with only good old mum to help and get him organised and proof read!! Feeling wanted and needed... This time, we spent a long time chatting, walking, rebuilding our relationship as adults and becoming friends... It seems like it was only yesterday when this little mixed up soul came into my world and it’s at that that point the ‘letting go’ all started; as soon as my little treasure was born in March 1994 - if he had been born before his brother, there would have been a bigger gap between them, as he was very challenging at times, but i loved him and laughed with him so much! This time of year will be very poignant for many parents as their little ones start on their journey to nursery school, messy club, mother and toddlers, primary school, secondary school, their first term at college then university then to embark on their first career in the huge world whilst our world seems somehow to have become a little emptier and smaller without them... I miss the times when they were little and i could protect them from everything, and they believed in father Christmas and that i could fix everything... All the time i have prepared them for the world, now he has gone, and although I am sad, i think the greatest gift we can give our children is to ‘let them go’ – allow them to make mistakes, let them fail, let them fall and scrape their knees, let them know it is ok to do this. It’s all part of learning and growing and achieving the success that is around the corner for them. But what about us? - are we ever prepared as parents especially mothers to ‘let your little ones go’? Are you prepared for the heartache and the pain along the way? Nothing really prepares for you that loss, that empty chair at the dinner table, the tidy bedroom, the quiet house and the empty washing basket. - the washing basket was always empty as the clothes were always on the bedroom floor even at age 25!!! - these signs all tell you that, ‘You’re done, you’re job is over.’ BUT it never is – your children will always need you, you will always be their parents – all that’s happened is your role has changed. I wasn’t prepared for the fact the family unit meant so much.... both my boys and my step daughter all love the traditions we hold together, the family meals, the walks, the days out. When it came to the ‘last supper’ I really wished I had organised more of these as family meals became a rarity. I think one of the biggest shifts for me is the change in roles - i still have my step daughter at home half the time, but i feel very empty - what am i supposed to do as a parent now? I probably cramp both the boys style as i text and call them most days, i am constantly checking that they are both ok as i worry they will think i do not care... We all want to be amazing parents and for our children to experience magical childhoods but somehow this isn’t always the case. For me, i always feel extremely guilty that the marriage with their father broke down, and i tried to rekindle it many times unsuccessfully - i tried to find a surrogate father for the boys, but in the end, i was enough for them - it was military precision getting them up, organised, breakfasted and out of the door into the car every morning and the same in reverse plus after school clubs as i was working full time, i remember not sitting down much at all as i would fall asleep! I did not want a divorce, i wanted the happy ever after, but that wasn't possible first time around.... However, now, i realise that i was pretty much the best mum and friend that i could be - my children all tolerate my phone calls and texts, my oldest son tolerates my monthly visits across the other side of the country keeping him organised and taking food parcels.... Now, i feel that i was and am a great mum - i am kind to myself - parenting is not easy for anyone and does not come with an instruction guide - though these days Google or Alexa will always help - I did my very best with what i had - i tried not to make the mistakes my mother made - though probably made far more of my own.... So, with both boys flown, and one still half home, i feel i should celebrate - though perhaps not quite yet as i am still pretty sad... I am so lucky, as i found love again once the boys had left home the first time - my husband is very understanding of my foibles trying to be a great mum and step mum - he does tell me to step back and let them be - i will try not to be as invasive, but sometimes, you are busy clutching straws waiting for a reason to talk to one or the other - Hold your children in the palm of your hand as if they were a butterfly, let them fly and they will always come back - Xmas now, is the time when they are all home and we enjoy our shared history, this time son 2 was only home 7 months, but i will miss him again until we redraw the lines of our relationship....

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road....

Tonight, 17th August 2019, marks a milestone in our family lives. My husband Neil, is taking a giant leap for him, and for us as a family, in ending his association with what has been the District Venue since 2004 in Liverpool. For the last thirty years, he has worked at the Picket, which more recently, evolved into the District. Thirty years is a long time - and this decision has been a long time coming, and cannot come soon enough for us all as a family. My husband, Neil, worked at the Picket when it was at it's inception along with his colleague Phil. They were only in their early twenties and finding their way. Phil was the front man, Neil preferred to work behind the scenes, booking the bands, learning the back line, and managing the venue. https://www.indymedia.org.uk/en/2004/04/290081.html?c=on https://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/news/liverpool-news/stars-kit-out-the-picket-3558564 The Picket building was finally sold by the trade union in 2004, and Neil and Phil found a venue which was in the Baltic Triangle to continue a venue for bands as the Picket had been. Unfortunately, one night, during a drunken social night, Phil was abusive to a Jewish MP who was with them. In that one moment, everything changed for the Picket/District and for Phil and Neil. As Phil had courted the limelight for so many years, the newspapers had no mercy and he was plastered all over the Liverpool Echo. https://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/news/liverpool-news/picket-founder-phil-hayes-fined-3324390 Liverpool Council immediately rescinded their funding for the venue, and Neil, who had worked full time since the venue's inception, was no longer employed. Colleagues all over Liverpool knew of the situation... it was an extremely trying time for all concerned... Phil was unwell. Neil was in the middle of a relationship breaking down and losing his employment was the icing on the cake. He continued to work at the District, but as a self employed sound musician as Jayne and her partner, Eric had now taken over the bar from the Phil and Neil, and were booking club nights to bring in a younger crowd with more available money. There was much angst, but Phil was not well enough to properly challenge this, and Neil was caring for his young daughter with a limited income and did not want to be involved in going against the hand that feeds. Neil was pushed further and further into a corner, but jobs as sound engineers are few and far between, he could no longer travel to festivals or tour Europe as he had family commitments... Moving the clock forward two years, i popped up on the horizon, we have not looked back, were married in 2017, and do everything together The future is positive..... I retired three years ago, and have been waiting for this night ever since. This is the happy ever after :D

Home is where the heart is.

I have just come back from my monthly visit to my eldest son and my best friend. They both live in Essex. Essex is where i lived with no desire to leave from 1991 - 2014. Circumstances often beyond our control cause us to move, and hard as it seems to be initially, we resettle in our new homes.... My house is a shrine to my homes. There's a sunset reflection outside my bedroom door when Alex's bedroom door is open in our current home, But i remember the sunshine in Essex, as well as in Broadgreen where i grew up as the sun hid behind the houses in the next road - lots of three bedroom semi's of the bay window variety... The sunshine in Belsize Park where i spent my first year as a grown up, away from Liverpool, learning how to be independent... Always our memories of home are when we are in a high emotive state and why we can recall them to clearly. The nurses home in Epsom, where i homed my skills and became a registered nurse, my memories again, are of the sunshine and lying outside in the sunshine with t shirts and shorts - something that seemed alien to me, as it was not considered the thing to do in the big city... My mother would certainly have given me something to do, to prevent me sitting in the garden! Brighton was another sunshiny memory, the beaches, the fun as a single young thing, newly qualified, parties and discos... Tillingham was the sunniest of my memories and when the boys were tiny, we enjoyed summers walking down to the sea wall, taking picnics, looking at where the hole at the side of the lane was for the route to "neverland" Many happy times. I considered every one of those places my home at one time or another, whether it was for months or years. For many people, their home is part of their self-definition, which is why we do things like decorate our houses and take care of our lawns. As this is a particularly wet summer, I am cutting the lawns and digging up weeds every five days - it was every two weeks down south! These large patches of vegetation serve little real purpose, but they are part of a public face people put on, displaying their home as an extension of themselves. It's hardly rare, though, in our mobile modern society, to accumulate several different homes over the course of a lifetime. So how does that affect our conception of ourselves? For better or worse, the place where we grew up usually retains an iconic status, Liverpool to me, is not the prettiest of places, but it holds its own - i love it. However, whilst it's human nature to want to have a place to belong, we also want to be special, and defining yourself as someone who once lived somewhere more interesting than the Rocket in the 1970's, is one way to do that. you might choose to identify as a person who used to live somewhere else, because it makes you distinctive. I know full well that living in London for four years doesn't make me a Cockney, but that doesn't mean there's not a fridge magnet of London on the fridge! We may use our homes to help distinguish ourselves, but the dominant Western viewpoint is that regardless of location, the individual remains unchanged. In the modern Western world, perceptions of home are consistently coloured by factors of economy and choice. There's an expectation in our society that you'll grow up, buy a house, get a mortgage, and jump through all the financial hoops that home ownership entails, It's true that part of why my home feels like mine is because I'm the one who always paid for it! not my parents, though my parents helped... That kind of economic system is predicated on marketing people to live in a different home, or a better home than the one they're in. I know the most important thing for me was to buy a house and get on the property ladder - I bought my first house at the age of 21 - i needed that financial security, even then! It is something i always instilled in my children - and my second son is about to embark on his first house at the age of 25 years with a hefty deposit paid for by us, to help him along his journey. The endless options of when to sell and buy the next house can leave us constantly wondering if there isn't some place with better schools, a better neighbourhood, more green space, and on and on. We may leave a pretty good thing behind, hoping that the next place will be even more desirable. Not always knowing the area we are moving to can be a pot luck situation, but property will never go down in value (as my mother continually instilled into me - buy bricks and mortar!) - she was right! In some ways, this mobility has become part of the natural course of a life. The script is a familiar one: you move out of your parents' house, maybe go to nursing college and university as i did, get a place of your own, get a bigger house when you have children, then a smaller one when the children leave home, then in my case, a bigger one with the second family and the children returning home on boomerangs, It is not a bad thing, and i know we are thinking bungalow land is only 15 years down the road!! But in spite of everything, in spite of the mobility, individualism, and the economy, on some level we do recognise the importance of place. The first thing we ask someone when we meet them, after their name, is where they are from, we recognise lilts in accents, We ask, not just to place a pushpin for them in our mental map of acquaintances, but because we recognise that the answer tells us something important about them. My answer for "where are you from?" is usually Liverpool, but 29 years away... If home is where the heart is, then by its most literal definition, my home is wherever I am. I've always been liberal in my use of the word. If when i was younger i was going to visit my mum, it was described as "Im going home to see mum" - even though i lived down south... Memories, too, are cued by the physical environment. When you visit a place you used to live, these cues can cause you to revert back to the person you were when you lived there. The rest of the time, different places are kept largely separated in our minds. Decompartmentalised - The more connections our brain makes to something, the more likely our everyday thoughts are to lead us there. But connections made in one place can be isolated from those made in another, so we may not think as often about things that happened for the few months we lived someplace else. Looking back, many of my homes feel more like places borrowed than places possessed, and while I sometimes sift through mental souvenirs of my time there, in the scope of a lifetime, I was only a tourist. I can't possibly live everywhere I once labelled as my home, but I can frame these places on my walls. My decorations on the fridge and postcards in the study, serve as a reminder of the more adventurous person I was in my teens, the more carefree person i was in London and before i had children. No one is ever free from their social or physical environment. And whether or not we are always aware of it, a home is a home because it blurs the line between the self and the surroundings, and challenges the line we try to draw between who we are and where we are. When i visit my son and best friend, it is a journey i am so used to, i enjoy it, i remember all the fun times we had whilst the children were growing up, but i love coming back home. Home is where the heart is.

Friendships

Like many women in their fifties, i have had many friendships, many more acquaintances, but only three best friends in my long life! Friendships do come and go, often, we over associate with old friends to maintain the connection of our joined history. As a child, i did have a best friend at infants school - her name was Heather - she lived on Valencia Road near Picton Clock but left after Top Infants to attend Belvedere School. I suppose i went through school in a bit of a daydream - so much drama was happening at home with my mother and father arguing daily (which i thought was completely normal) - then being sent to my sister most weekends in Woolton, then Leigh, then Skelmersdale - i didn't really feel very "connected" to other children at school. In the midsummer of 1974, my mother moved to Shaftsebury in Dorset. She secured a nursing post running a district nursing service - she had looked at a map, and felt that it was near Bath, Avon, which is where her second husband had taken my half brother. I knew nothing about it as usual, i was put on a train to Bristol, I dont remember saying goodbye to my father, (who remained at the Liverpool house) - they were divorced by this time.... and mum's second husband ( My dad was the third of five), collected me from Bristol train station and took me to Bath. I was used to going to spend summers with him - i called him "Uncle Joe". I recall going to a junior school in Bath for a week, then my mum collected me, and took me to a B&B on a farm in the Countryside - I then attended the village school for the remainder of the summer term with the farmers son and we were in the same class, though he was two years older than me. My father came for us and we came back to Liverpool at the end of August. I was told that mum couldn't sell the house - my dad had painted the hall white and it was so bright as i walked in. Back at the local junior school, i simply moved up to the next class - nobody seemed to ask any questions - maybe they did, but i was not made aware of it. High School was the same, i was friendly with children, i was the "sporting third" in any given group - i wonder if i really knew how to be a friend - nobody was allowed to come home for tea or a sleep over... It was an odd childhood existence really, i was always friendly with other children, i found i could make them laugh - something i have always relied upon as a coping mechanism, but, on reflection, i was very mixed up, lonely and unhappy underneath. I learned to hide it well, as mum would say i was selfish!.... "after all ive done for you how can you be unhappy??" a wallop or something thrown at me would follow... Whilst seeing Uncle Joe and my brother Tony, i had friends in Bath - Zoe and Leah and i spent many summers with them - all ancient history now, but i remember those times clearly. Friendships came and went in Liverpool once i became more aware of what they entailed and how to keep in touch with friends without my mum sabotaging them - i found them unique really, and my first real friends were Ondrea and Carol. Ondrea lived in the same road as me, and her mum, like mine, was divorced. In the mid 1970's, very few families had divorced parents, so my mum, and Ondrea's mum, (Josie), stuck together and forged an unlikely friendship that lasted from their thirties until my mum died last year age 90! Carol was very sensible, we went to junior school together, and although we went to different secondary schools, we remained close friends as we attended youth group and Brownies, then Girl Guides and finally Rangers together. After i left home for London, we stayed in touch on and off through our parents - Carol's mum lived in the next road so we would try and plan visits to coincide with each other. We remain friends. My third best friend is Nikki. Nikki and i became friends due to our children having difficulties at school. Our friendship is unique also, because we needed each other. We chose to become friends, to enable each other as well as our children. We worked together, holidayed together and have a friendship that has endured my marriage breakdown, my moving 250 miles away, but we remain close friends. These friendships often begin in the playground or nursery with your children, and because you want your children to be friends, they endure. Some friendships change as we grow older, but with my friends, there remains a consistency. In the hierarchy of relationships, friendships are at the bottom. Romantic partners, husbands/wives, parents, children - all of these relationships come first. Unlike the more formal roles of family relationships, friendships lack a formal structure - with friendships, you make up the rules as you go along - i have friends whom i have not contacted for months, but i know if i call them, i will talking to them for hours as if we have not spent time apart... Our lives are busy that it can be difficult to make time to keep in touch on a daily basis, but that should not deflect from the bond of friendship. People want three things from friendship:- Somebody to talk to, someone to depend on, and someone to enjoy. These expectations remain the same, but the circumstances under which they’re accomplished change. The voluntary nature of friendship makes it subject to life’s whims in a way that the more formal relationships aren’t. In adulthood, as people grow up and move away to start their own adventures, friendships are the relationships most likely to fail. You’re stuck with your family, and you prioritise your husband / wife / family / mother. However, where you could pop over to Carol/Nikki/Ondrea's house to see them, real life now gets in the way, and you find that they are busy - particularly now we are all in our fifties - our children are grown but some have not flown the nest yet, and parents are now taking up much time. The fabulous thing about friendship however, is that friends are friends because they want to be - they choose each other - from school, to old age, friendship continues to give health benefits both mental and physical. My mothers friendship with Josie - Ondrea's mother, endured over 50 years - they laughed, argued, had fun. During young adulthood, friendships become more complex and meaningful. In childhood, friends are mostly other children who are fun to play with; in adolescence, there’s a lot more self-disclosure and support between friends, but adolescents are still discovering their identity, and learning what it means to be intimate. Their friendships help them do that. In adolescence, people have a tractable self, they change so much between the ages of 16 - 23 - By young adulthood, people are usually a little more secure in themselves, more likely to seek out friends who share their values on the important things, and let the little things be. Friendship networks are naturally denser when you are a young adult - i left Liverpool and moved to London to attend nursing college and university, You spend so much time living and working in that environment that many friendships are made. As we enter middle age, it is more difficult to manage friendships - there are more demands on time - with work and attending school plays for children and grandchildren that take up time rather than catching up with friends. As we move through life, we make and try and keep friends - Some of us make friends wherever they go, and may have more friendly acquaintances than deep friendships. Others are discerning, meaning they have a few best friends they stay close with over the years, but the deep investment means that the loss of one of those friends would be devastating. The most flexible are the acquisitive—people who stay in touch with old friends, but continue to make new ones as they move through the world. Some people do manage to stay friends for life, or at least for many years - my mother used to say "I wish i had a Nikki" - i am so lucky to be able to maintain this friendship... but what is it that predicts who will last through the maelstrom of middle age and be there for the silver age of friendship? Whether people hold onto their old friends or grow apart seems to come down to dedication and communication. The more you’ve invested in a friendship already, the more likely you are to keep it going. There are different levels of maintaining a relationship, and digital communication works better for some than for others. The first is just keeping a relationship alive at all, just to keep it in existence. Saying “Happy Birthday” on Facebook, liking an instagram post, emailing - these can keep relationships going but only mechanically - Next is to keep a relationship at a stable level of closeness. Social media makes it possible to maintain more friendships, but more shallowly. And it can also keep relationships on "life support" that would (and maybe should) otherwise have died out. What is completely bizzare - is facebook - the fact that i have Heather on my facebook, who i was friends with when i was 7 years old and have not seen since, but i have no connection to her current life - and going back forty plus years is now on my facebook - weird when really, in normal life before the internet, apart from living in Valencia Road, she should be a memory to me - why would i care about her children winning a cup in the sports day at school - She actually does not have any children, but why should i know that? - in this era of mechanical friendships with facebook and prior to this with Friends reunited, these very old childhood relationships have never timed out because they are there in our newsfeed though should really be a memory. By middle-age, people have accumulated many friends from different jobs, different cities, and different activities, who don’t know each other at all. These friendships fall into three categories: active, dormant, and commemorative. Friendships are active if you are in touch regularly, you could call on them for emotional support and it wouldn’t be weird, if you pretty much know what’s going on with their lives at this moment. A dormant friendship has history, maybe you haven’t talked in a while, but you still think of that person as a friend. You’d be happy to hear from them and if you were in their city, you’d definitely meet up. A commemorative friend is not someone you expect to hear from, or see, maybe ever again. But they were important to you at an earlier time in your life, and you think of them fondly for that reason, and still consider them a friend. Facebook makes things weird by keeping these friends continually in your peripheral vision. Perhaps friends are more willing to forgive long lapses in communication because they’re feeling life’s velocity acutely too. It’s sad, that we stop relying on our friends as much when we grow up or move away, but it allows for a different kind of relationship, based on a mutual understanding of each other’s human limitations. It’s not ideal, but it’s real. Friendship is a relationship with no strings attached except the ones you choose to tie, one that’s just about being there, as best as you can.

The First Day 2

My mum has always known that i love dogs - despite not being allowed a pet and bringing all sorts of birds, cats, frogs etc home as a child, they would be taken to the RSPCA off Edge Lane. So, as i was now hitting forty, and a sensible adult, living in my own home with children, I did not expect to have my values and choices questioned as i had put everything on hold for mum being with me for a few weeks. The first morning, lots of crashing and banging was going on upstairs - I had woken up early, driven the boys to school, taken the dogs out for a quick constitutional, my best friend had come over with the newspaper for mum, and we were all set for her grand entrance... It was 0930hrs... Clatter clatter, bang bang thud - mum descended the stairs and knocked two photos off the wall in the hallway... She was using a hospital aid (stick) with her good arm, and refused any help to bring down her handbag and worldly possessions in the process.... "Mum, do you want any help?"..... "NO! The only thing i want is to go home to my OWN house in Liverpool where I live"... Such was the conversation every morning - challenges as she had not made the decision herself to come down to stay with me in Essex. "Ok, fine, but you have to stay with me for a few weeks to get your arm and you stronger, so you can cope at home" - There really was no reasoning with her at this time of the morning, and it was a case of simply diverting her attention to what might be in the newspapers, or the crossword, or on daytime, mind numbing TV... We found that she enjoyed Judge Judy, and playing cards, as well as estate agent shows where purchasers went to Auctions to bid on houses, and, as mum would say - "a Doer Upper" would be a bargain - and the TV crew would return later in the show to see how they coped with the renovations... That first day, i had mum registered with our family Doctor in Maldon - he came out to see mum. It was inevitably always such a pa-lava to get her into the car and to any appointments as mum did love a drama and would scream if i touched or looked like i was going to touch her knee (which had been painful for 40 years but she had not had it replaced as she was afraid of anaesthetic...) getting her in and out of the car - her screams would be louder if there was an audience of poor members of the public minding their own business at bus stops etc... They would give me the evil eye, which mum would love! I was concerned about mum's arm - it was fractured in five places and she had been on the bathroom floor for 14 hours before Diane found her and took her to hospital.... Inevitably, mum became ill and had caught a chill - the GP wanted to get her into hospital, but mum refused to go - "I will die if you take me there!" - so we left it that day and just gave her lots of vitamin drinks and supplements with her meals... By the end of the first day i was completely shattered - my nerves were on edge - she would say "living on her nerves" - that is how i felt... the anxiety was killing me, but with a large glug of wine, we got through the first day!!!

Introduction to Life with Mum 1

It all started in December 2009. Life as a mother was becoming easier, my children were becoming less dependent, were in secondary education, my mortgage was getting more manageable, and my career was wonderful and fulfilling... in fact, everything was pretty much tickety boo... It is amazing though, that the minute one part of your life runs smoothly, another part looms on the horizon and is in danger of falling apart... So was the case for me.... December 12th 2009. I tried to call my mother, as i did every day - she was recently widowed (October 2009) and welcomed the contact - on her terms... no reply - at first, this did not worry me, mum had an ability for selective hearing and would often purposely not answer the telephone if the mood took her, or she wanted us to worry - i say "us" loosely - there is a brother and sister, though i, the prodigal daughter, was the one who remained constant. At times it was "three rings and put it down so i know its you!" - then this changed to five rings - i think with hindsight, we all had different codes so she would know who was calling her! By 6pm, i still had no reply to my calls, and living some 250 miles away (where i had run to after a troubled adolescence, 20 years before to start my adventures - and which at the time, had seemed a safe distance) i felt compelled to phone my sister who lived only 60 miles away. She was not concerned as she had spoken to mum the previous day, but i persisted.... My sister begrudgingly went to the house, to find it locked with the chain on from inside... they got bolt cutters from the local DIY store, and found mum in the upstairs bathroom on the floor having fractured her humerus falling off the toilet.... They called an ambulance and went with mum to hospital. The following week, after assessment, she was to be discharged for "conservative home management" which remains the NHS's way of preventing bed blocking and sending out elderly, vulnerable patients back home knowing they are unable to cope, but no risk assessment and fingers crossed anyway! Being a nurse specialist along with my sister and mother, i created a fuss and threatened safeguarding, but to no avail, so I decided to step in, arranging with my sister to get mum from the hospital and i would meet her half way down the M1 and i would take a sabbatical from work for two weeks to see how mum managed with her fracture. I really did not notice my sister whoop whoop with a happy face as she backed out of the service station car park, but i am pretty sure she did - as we did not see her again for five months except for one weekend to fleece mother out of money for her daughter's double glazing!!... that was the beginning of our journey...