Friday

Mum was sufficiently awake to be miserable today. No evidence of her being ‘active’ judging by the state of the blankets.

I asked her if she’d had much to eat and she really only remembered the porridge she had for breakfast. She said that she hadn’t had a drink for ages though. I offered her the remains of her squash.

“Don’t want that.”

“How about a sherry then?”

“Just a small one.”

I went and got clean cup.

“Who’s been drinking this Mum? The bottle’s half empty. Have the nurses been giving you some?”

“No!”

Once again, she pulls a That’s-Fucking-Toxic face.

“Read to me”

“OK, let’s see what I’ve got on my machine here….

You can have what I’m reading. It’s a book about computational modelling of metabolic regulation based on the premise that enzymes have multiple secondary binding sites….

Or you can have something I downloaded today which is a novel view of the mechanisms involved in natural genetic mutation and how they inform the hypotheses explaining the appearance of new phenotypes which are the part of Darwin’s original theory of evolution he couldn’t account for…

Or you could have the stories about the Nigerian parish priest….”

“The parish priest. That sounds more interesting”

I was a chapter and a bit in when she started getting stomach ache again. Uncle Tom and her dad get a mention. Interestingly, she wants me to tell a nurse too. That’s a first. I go to get up but am told not to leave her on her own. The pain soon passed.

I carried on reading but within a few minutes she was unresponsive. I get the feeling she isn’t properly asleep though. Just having a bit of a sulk.

I set Brother Cadfael going and told her I’d be back tomorrow.

Bibliography

Tales from the Parish: 31 humorous short stories about community, family and village life, set in the English countryside

Kindle Edition

by Stefania Hartley

Brother Cadfael: A BBC Radio Collection of Three Full-Cast Dramatisations

Audible Audiobook – Original recording

Author’s Note

My Mum is in a nursing home in a small village in the Thames Valley. The photo is not of the home. I used an AI image generator to give the reader some idea of the home she’s in.

All, some or maybe even none (you’ll never know!) of the names have been changed to protect privacy and hide real identities. If you think you recognise someone then let me know and I’ll edit the post or remove it entirely