Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Weasel: happy haircut niecey hope it goes ok xxx
Niecey: thanks aunt. set me back a large fortune but hair is so much healthier for it! Yay. Wat u up to? X
Weasel: oh, u kno, the usual - cooking dinner, sorting out paperwork, organising medical appointments 4 gdad, it's a glam old life. booked my annual haircut 4 fri xxx
Niecey: ooo yay for haircut! what's the goss, have you heard from your young man much?
Weasel: he's txted just b4 every wkend asking when i'm coming back, not sure if this is eagerness or making sure i'm safely out the way. but now getting double kisses on txts &he wants 2 meet up like the day after i get home - blimey. he was clearly impressed by my step-by-step re-enactment of robbie fowler's 1997 goal against s.k.brann in pub on date#2. niecey i just made the best fish pie ever, i am drunk on my own magnificence xxx
Niecey: nice one aunt X
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
After I wrote the last post, I washed my hair, shaved my hairy bits and walked into town to watch the firework display with Tesco's Guy. He and I then got admirably drunk and bopped away to wholesome tunes in the best bar in Cardiff until the small hours.
It was our third date. He is very nice. The next morning, I packed my rucksack and went to Kent.
I went to Kent because that is where my dad lives, and my dad is old and infirm, and he is also an idiot.
He is an idiot for so many reasons that to list them all would surely take up all of the internet, and he is not worth breaking the internet for.
He got out of hospital last Wednesday. In addition to the usual stuff (arthritis, high blood pressure, idiocy) this year he has mostly suffered from:
- a blood clot in his leg, nearly resulting in amputation
- pleurisy and pneumonia
- blindness in one eye caused by cataracts
No, his preferred modus operandi was to sit there thinking 'life is awful'.
Then, when he was finally patched up and mending, he tripped over his idiot feet and broke his idiot arm.
Instead of asking for help with stuff, he just sat at home living on biscuits until he got ill again.
He had several weeks in hospital, then they sent him home. I didn't think it was a good idea for him to be home alone again, so I handed in my notice at work (rah!) and hopped on the Kent-bound bus.
I'm here for a few weeks, during which time I hope to arrange care for him to protect him from his own idiocy, and to encourage him to take part in his own life for once.
There is little chance of the latter, but I am making slow progress with the former.
Meanwhile, it is like babysitting a helpless, hapless, and slightly backward tortoise.
Saturday, 6 November 2010
Two weeks ago, my dad wasn't in hospital looking old and frail and very tired.
Two weeks ago, there was no nice young man keen to accompany me to tonight's municipal fireworks display.
Two weeks ago, I had a job to go to on Monday.