A heavy lid kind of grey day over us today, but I wore a new frock, black and cream, very spotty, very fifties, with high heeled patent shoes and buttons at the ankle socks, so it was OK!
heartbreakingly beautiful… always
Been with my parents since I left work tonight at five…
A couple of days ago Ma asked me if I could get her some hearing aid batteries. I immediately perked up as she’s had the sodding pair, festering, unused, battery acid leaking, ignored, for about six months, in a drawer next to her near her chair in their sitting room. She has shown no interest in them whatsoever since we finally (after six years of nagging) got her to sort out an appointment and subsequent fitting. We (the whole family) have long since given up nagging her to actually use them and have resorted to SHOUTING! and even, at (desperate) times, waving our arms in front of her face in a kind of wild semaphore. I investigated forthwith, managed to prise the little gits out of their casements, popped them in my purse and said I would, dutifully, replace them. So I did. On my way home from work tonight. 3 for 2 in Boots- Bought 18. Enough to dissolve the whole frigging drawer and the hinges on the doors below, no doubt, but one can never let a bargain go by…
Got there this evening to find them in good spirits. Ma passed me her hearing aids (still box fresh in their little plastic casings) informing me that she just can’t hear the telly anymore and, seeing as that all Pa does these days is watch the bloody thing… Ahh… all is now clear…
Anyway. Fitted the batteries. Fitted the hearing aids in Ma’s ears. Foraged for instructions on how to adjust the volume controls, and discovered six (further) boxes of batteries, not the ones I’d just purchased I hasten to add, sitting in the drawer next to her near her chair in their sitting room. Mmm I thought. Interesting. I gently pointed this out to both Ma and Pa and they laughed sheepishly, apolgised profusely and I muttered to myself as I decided it was now 6pm, Friday, the sun way past the yard arm and time for a glass of wine to rosaeate the proceedings, please.
I decided to cook their supper, a suggestion that was met with slight protestations from Ma, (she never, ever does any of the cooking anymore) and gleeful thanks from Pa (the lately appointed chief cook and bottle washer and everythingunderthesuner.) Armed with a glass of (sweet) rose wine I investigated the ingredients in the fridge. After turfing half the contents into the bin due to ‘out-of-date issues,’ I was left with bacon- 27 rashers, sausages-four, slightly wizened, black pudding- 6 slices, tomatoes- eight, large, M&S cheesy potato croquettes- 2 boxes, (eight in total), eighteen eggs, a jelly trifle, a treacle tart, an apple pie, a punnet of (just) OK raspberries, 3 cartons of extra thick cream, and seven assorted kinds of (rather dried up looking) red leicester cheese.
OK- mixed grill, I yelled. Half an hour later, smoke alarm shrieking at intervals, (I’m glad to know they aint gonna burn to death, unless they run out of batteries and the neighbours are all congenitally deaf) two parents, sitting at the table, glasses of wine at the ready, steaming plates of food in front of them. Result. Ma said- oh… two sausages… I don’t know… I interrupted. Just eat what you can Ma. No pressure. Two scraped plates, two empty bowls of trifle and a full dishwasher humming later, I left.
At least it reduced the time I’ll be spending alone on a Friday night.
Friday nights. What is it with me and them?