Dear Dairy - Day Eight as a Care Giver in England

May 25th, 2011.

3002…I ask you? Numeral dyslexia, I admit to being afflicted by it!
The date on the tin of anchovies was 31st May, 2003…
Just shows that when I edit what I have written at 11pm, it is not a good idea.
But to those of you who are reading my updates on a regular basis, apologies for throwing you into the future in yesterday’s diary entry.
I felt like a Time Traveller today during my lunch break when I was walking over a zebra-crossing on a busy road.
All of a sudden I had a cold shiver of déjà vu and heard the screaming of car breaks.
It was weird, as looking around me there was not a car to be seen, only a woman pushing her baby in his buggy.
About an hour later I was in the local bakery and I heard two ladies chatting about an accident that had just happened exactly where I’d heard the howl of breaks.
Apparently it was a terrible accident in which four people had died.
Brrr…I went absolutely cold!
I hardly slept at all last night because of the Grandfather clock’s intrusive hourly chiming outside my bedroom door.
I ask you, why put a clock that must be the baby brother of Big Ben in such a place?
Even ear-plugs are no help at all…
Then just when I thought I’d get off relatively early this evening Joan went to sleep in her chair holding a glass of red wine and dropped it all over her cream carpet, so there was I on bended knee, not saying my evening prayers, but scrubbing the carpet around Joan’s feet.
Every now and again she would raise a leather clad foot and grandly tell me to wash her shoes.
Each time she lifted her leg, she would gracefully let of wind….
Charming!