June 16th, 2011.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, the last time I had time to write I was looking after Joan in a place called Mole Hill.
That post ended on the 7th June at 1pm when Angie took over from me and I high tailed it out of the front door and was whisked by taxi to the closest railway station, bought a ticket and soon was on my way back to London, my daughter’s, my grandson and son-in-law, - and sanity.
I felt like I had just left boarding school for a half term break and was almost wriggling in my seat with excitement!
The first thing I did when I got to Gipsy Hill station was go into the nearest corner shop and buy ingredients to make a large chicken curry and a bottle of white wine to celebrate my liberation.
By the time Kerry, Johnno and my grandson got home, the curry was bubbling on the stove top, and the wine was well chilled and ready to quaff. Absolute bliss.
But euphoria was only to last three days and then I found myself standing at Waterloo station waiting for the next train to Basingstoke and the murky unknown of who I was to Care for next.
Would she be docile, would she be nice, would she nasty and break out in hives?
No one understands the trepidation a Carer has before a new assignment; it’s like jumping into Dante’s Abyss. You never know what challenges lurk ahead.
Oh heck, more tomorrow, Molly’s calling and it’s 11.45 pm….
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