Sunday, 22 May 2011

Dear Diary - Day Four as a Care Giver in England

21st May, 2011

It’s Saturday and some people think the world may end today. Volcanic activity in Norway…everyone hit the deck!
And what am I doing so far away from my husband at the Southern most tip of Africa and my daughters who are only down the drag from me in London if the world ends?
Stripping Joan’s bed, putting fresh sheets, duvet and pillow cases on it, - heck, I may as well be doing the same thing back home at my Bed and Breakfast!
Mind you, if I was there, I would not be writing this Diary and I also would not have discovered where Joan secrets some of her dirty knickers…you guessed it, in the bottom her of her duvet cover, (you know, the opening side with the buttons.)
I knew there was another place other than the airing cupboard, but for the past few days could not figure out where…now I have found #2 hidey-hole!)
The washing machine has been working hard today, I can tell you…
I managed to get out and do a bit of shopping for Joan’s pantry, and rummage through the charity shops on Bookham’s High Street.
Imagine my delight when I copped a bargain in the charity shop, - little 1940’s silver Liberty Style silver necklace with a tear-drop Burmese aquamarine daintily dangling off it for 50 pence.
It was all black, but once I brought my treasure back to Joan’s and cleaned it up with a good scrub of toothpaste, the silver shone and the gemstone sparked.
I feel like Gollum from the Lord of the Rings, as I keep on looking at my pretty little find…next thing you will see me stroking it and calling it “my Precious.”
Something I have noticed in many of the charity shops I have browsed through since arriving in England is all the beautiful cut glass and crystal that is on the shelves.
There are decanters, fruit bowls, sherry glasses, you name it, and it’s all discarded and looking for a home.
Do younger people have no need for beautiful glassware?
Gosh past generations were left this sort of stuff by our ancestors in their wills to be cherished and passed down…
If I had a home here, I’d buy the lot and have my friends and family grandly sipping or eating from the lovely sparkly receptacles.
Well, enough shop talk!
I then went back to the local church and spent time taking photo’s in the grave yard.
There was a wedding taking place and I leant up against an ancient grave stone, (no, I do not think the fellow it belonged to minded me sharing his headrest at all.
In fact, I had the feeling he enjoyed the brief encounter of my company.
He was the silent type and did not like talking.)
The bride was dressed in a very similar gown to the one that Princess Kate wore and her little flower girls looked like two little dolls in candy floss organza the same champagne colour as her gown.
Her bridesmaids were in elegant sheaths. There were three of them, one in maroon, the other in purple and the third in emerald green.
However, the mother of the bride’s hat gave me the giggles…it had a plume of feathers sprouting out the top of it and I was sure the milliner must have killed a cockerel, cut off his tail and attached the entire thing, without any artistic though to the crown of the hat…
Every time there was a breeze, the feathers floated around and tickled her and who ever happened to be standing behind her on their noses!
I soon got tired of watching the endless posing for photo-shoots by the wedding party for the photographer who was wearing odd trousers with loud stripes and red suspenders.
So I thanked Albert for sharing his resting place and got up to mosey around the grave yard and read the dedications on the tomb stones.
I spied a red poppy that was growing next to a WW2 grave and thought it would make an appropriate photo composition.
I lay down on my tummy to take the shot…the grave keeper was walking by and stopped to watch me.
“Sorry”, I said, jumping up as agilely as my wonky knee would allow me to,
“Just taking a photo, that’s all!”
He smiled, “It’s OK Luv, can see you know a little bit about the Great War…nice poppy, makes a good one for ‘Poppy day’, - hey?”
Good, he did not think I was a grave robber…talk about day light robbery – LOL!
Well, my off-break was over and I rushed back to Joan’s place only to find her loudly snoring in her chair with the TV blaring…some cookery program waffling on.
Coffee time for Joan comprised coffee and coffee cake that I had baked that morning.
Then the cheeky little woman from next door arrived at the front door to grandly invite Joan for a “tipple of Pimms” in the garden at 5.30 pm.
Goody, I thought, a little extra time to myself…
Joan arrived back in time for dinner and finally it was time for me to get to bed…
“Good night Joan, see you tomorrow”,
Joan’s retort, “Maybe, but then maybe not”
The thought hit me that at her age it could be a maybe not!