Carry On Caring...

I've got a lot to catch up with, so I'll begin at the beginning.. are you sitting comfortably?

To follow on from my last post, Son's music event in London on Friday night was a great success. They had a good crowd, and everyone enjoyed the music. Son was dee-jaying with his music partner, another gorgeous D-J (they're jointly known as Living City - see previous post) and Daughter was on the door! She really enjoyed her night too.. I think she enjoys being in a position of power.

Next morning (Saturday), I drove to Kent to do my Florence Nightingale impression for Aristocratic BF, who is bed-bound after her accident and consequent operation. Well, what a drama. ABF had telephoned in the morning to ask if I would arrive in time for lunch, as her (very expensive, Private) Carer would be cooking. I was expecting at least Cordon Bleu standard and was a bit concerned about being 15 minutes late, but I needn't have worried. I was greeted in the drive by a worried-looking young lad who darted indoors to announce my arrival. Mysterious. When I got inside, ABF was sitting up in bed, in her Sitting Room, looking very regal, but rather pale. "It's the Carer", she said, "We can't wake her up." Well, I was all for going to do that very thing when my Friend said, "No, don't wake her, the Manager's on her way and they want to catch her out." It transpired that this "Carer" (I use the term lightly) had disappeared regularly while on duty, leaving ABF unable to get out of bed, or go to the loo; had turned off her monitor so that no-one could get hold of her; had shouted at my Friend a lot; had spent most of her time on her mobile phone, and had finally fallen asleep on the sofa in the Conservatory! All efforts to wake her had failed - and the anxious young lad turned out to be the Plumber's Mate (they were installing a downstairs shower for ABF) who had been frantically trying to help. I did pop my head round the Conservatory door, and saw Ms. Carer lying spark-out, with her mouth hanging open. And I didn't like the look of her. When the Manager of the Care Company finally arrived, (she got lost twice) there ensued a regular shouting match in the Conservatory, while I tried to calmly boil an egg for my starving and wobbly ABF. The Carer was shown the door, and the Manager came into the kitchen to talk to me. She opened up the official File, to check the notes, and there, nestling inside the cover, were three empty miniature whisky bottles. "Ah," said our Manager " I think we may have solved the mystery!"
Precisement, Mon Ami! Not only had Ms Carer emptied the bottles, she had also noted in the file that my ABF had been doing the drinking! After the dust had settled, we could see the funny side of it. My ABF ate a hearty boiled egg and soldiers, I had a cup of tea, and we thanked our lucky stars that ABF is not a vulnerable and isolated little old lady. The outcome could have been a lot more serious. As I said at the time, you couldn't make it up!

The weekend followed a frantic course after that - for me that is. My ABF is used to issuing orders, so I was Cook, Housekeeper and general skivvy for two days. I sorted the Airing Cupboard, organised her clothes so that the Carers would be able to dress her, cooked a risotto on Saturday and a roast on Sunday, watered the Greenhouse, cut the asparagus, went shopping, dressed and undressed her, ran up and down stairs countless times, made countless cups of tea and countless hot-water bottles, escorted ABF to the loo countless times, and laughed a lot. By the end of the weekend, we had told the Carer story to everyone ABF knows, and each time it got funnier. After all this, ABF was looking and feeling much brighter, so I was able to leave her this morning in very good spirits. 'Tis true that laughter is undoubtedly the best medicine.

On Friday, before all this excitement, I had a day out with another BF, at Gunwharf Quays in Portsmouth. As you know, I'm not a great shopper, but this was a wonderful experience. The place is full of Designer Outlet shops, and is right on the edge of the Portsmouth Docks - an interesting development and planned so that you can stroll around the shops or sit and watch the boats, whatever takes your fancy. The only reason I'm telling you this, is because we managed to get the bargain of the century - twice! We wandered into the Ralph Lauren Polo shop, where my BF made her way to a rack of long, indigo linen coats. Think Commes des Garcons, loose, unstructured and F*** Off gorgeous. They were marked £64.99 and my BF tried one on. At this point, another woman came over to us, protesting that the price had been increased since she came in, ten minutes before. I said, "Really?" not sure what else to say, while my BF stayed schtum. The other woman attracted the attention of a Salesman, and asked him why the price increase from £45 to £65. We just stood there and listened. After a bit of a discussion, the Sales guy said, "Oh alright, I'll do them for £29.98" What?? Where did that come from? My BF promptly grabbed her coat, I grabbed one too, and we went to try them on again. To cut a long story short, we each bought one for £29.98. My BF waited until we were outside the shop and then said. "The last time I was here, those coats were £500!" Hoots of laughter and total disbelief (from me). As I said, the Bargain of the Century..

PS. The best news for me, is that when I got home today, I discovered that I had lost two pounds in weight over the weekend. Must do it again some time...