As I commence this prose, my brother Ian’s just left our mother’s home where he’s been providing me respite from carer to our mater. Him affording me a break from the caring role a huge fillip for his elder sibling.
Another boon was my notoriously clumsy brother left the matriarchal gaff without breakage. An achievement perhaps aided by me locking the cabinet containing Maggie’s fine bone china; along with only allowing him to wash up the Tupperware dishes and plates post-meal.
Our kid’s ingrained cloddishness a lifetime curse, which showing itself shortly after his home birth in 1965, when he allegedly knocked over a cup of tea and broke a Toby jug residing on a bedroom cabinet.
Ian’s reputation for ungainliness meaning, when performing a godparent role at my daughter Rachel’s baptisement, he wasn’t allowed to walk down the church aisle with a candle, as was afforded to other’s performing the duty. The jeopardy of our kid walking indoors with a lit candle rated too high a risk by the church’s verger.
Consequently, Ian meandered into kirk side with candle holding fellow godparents carrying a Toffee Crisp bar; a sugary snack he’d eaten by the time he got to the font at the church front. This confectionary fix meaning he undertook godparent vows with milk chocolate around his gob, and smeared on his tie.
Don’t get me wrong my younger brother is a smashing lad (excuse the pun); he’s is, though, unlikely to ever achieve his decades long aspiration of working in the Morano glass works in Venice.
If he doesn’t shatter pottery or glassware during his house guest tarries, our kid can be relied upon to cause extra work by knocking over a glass of wine/cup of tea.
Consequently, as well as the obligatory food and drink procured ready for his attendance, a precautionary bottle of carpet shampoo joins the glue tube in my shopping basket.
The nearest Ian came to breaking anything occurred as he left this morning when he caught the glass hallway light when elevating his man bag over his head. Despite swinging wildly after colliding with the carryall, the shade mercifully remained in one piece.
During my hiatus from employ as a carer courtesy of our kid, I was able to spend a few hours on Sunday walking in a forest close to Selby, North Yorkshire.
The serenity consequential of meandering this tree laden land, where witnessing fellow walkers is an infrequent occurrence, unravelling my stress which’s built up from three weeks of constantly tending the matriarch.
As a result, I commence this new week with a sprightlier demeanour than at the conclusion of last week. A juncture where fatigue manifesting from undertaking a carers role was beginning to feel burdensome. This new verve the catalyst to me already undertaking a whole pile of shredding and two loads of washing and drying.
As I write, Maggie’s napping in her armchair adjacent to the old gogglebox. Her snoring so cacophonous I’m surprised contestants on gameshow ‘Impossible’ can hear host Rick Edwards questions…… I bloody can’t!!