Think I`ve sorted it................

I was becoming increasingly worried about the guy I`d given the £100 to. There was no sign of him and when I tried to ring him, I was just getting through to his answering service. It was looking dodgier and dodgier by the minute.
When it was becoming apparent that no one was going to answer, I went round to speak to some of the neighbours who were also having work done by him and it seemed no one else of them could reach him eithe and had also given him money.

However, one neighbour, J, did know where to contact him and told him in no uncertain terms what was going to happen if he didn`t show up pronto! J reckons he`s not really a conman, just a bit of an idiot. 

So later on this afternoon, the mystery workman turned up very sheepish and we managed to get things settled . Phew!!!! I was really worried there for a bit.

Have I been conned again

One of the pitfalls of being on your own, is having no-one to help maintain the house. I don`t know about anyone else, but I`m scared to trust strangers doing jobs in my home, unless they`ve been recommended by someone I know. And that`s even if you can get someone to come out anyway. The times I`ve waited patiently for some workman or other to turn up, only for them to disappear into some Handyman Bermuda Triangle  So gradually, the house has started to look a bit run down what with general lack of TLC.

So when my mum asked the guy whose been doing some very nice work on a few of the houses in our street, I jumped in and asked him to paint my house too. Then, he said he did other jobs, anything other than gas and electric really, so he agreed to fit some new double glazed windows in the twins room. I was over the moon.

I trusted him implicitly as he said he was a friend of J`s over the road and he was also doing jobs for other neighbour we are friendly with. He told us that so many people had asked him to do work in our road that it would take about 3 months, but he was really glad of the work.. The next day he turned up with another guy to measure the window, which he said he would do this week when he had finished painting our neighbours house. Then - now this is were it gets a bit worrying - then, he asked could he have a £100 deposit to order the glass. I didn`t hesitate really, well he was a friend of J`s - and I happened to have a hundred in cash, which I gave him, making a little deposit slip which I got him to sign. He also wrote his mobile number on the piece of paper, in case I needed to get hold of him.

Well, I know it`s only Wednesday, but he still hasn`t rung me. I`m thinking he wouldn`t just turn up with the window as he wouldn`t know whether I was home or not, so am wondering if he plans to come Friday. Anyway, I rooted in the drawer and fished his mobile number out and gave him a ring. Well guess what? It went to answer phone.
I tried again. Same. Getting a bit worried now. I texted him. Yep, once again, no reply.
Now I really am worried. I walked round to the house where he`s been working and there`s no sign of him yet the house is not fully painted.

I`m really puzzled and a little sick with myself for being too trusting yet again. I felt it was too soon to go over to J`s and start asking questions in case it`s all an innocent mistake and the week isn`t even over yet. But is he really a friend of J`s? I don`t even know that for sure. And why isn`t he at the other house finishing off. If it is all kosher why hasn`t he answered his mobile or at least sent me a text.
Stupid stupid stupid me for putting myself in this position again. Will I never learn?

My sun paintings

We were invited to submit a painting on the subject of the sun to go into our art teacher's exhibition. One painting each. These were my two choices :
Wasn`t too sure what to do but eventually chose the one with the girl in a bikini.
I`m looking forward to the opening night next Friday.

Vascular dementia?

It’s so scary! My mother has always been a person of great spirit: one of life’s survivors. She had a childhood filled with poverty with an alcoholic father who frequently hit my tiny little, pinafore wearing Nan after bouts of drink fuelled paranoia. After Nan managed to get away from my granddad, she and the family fled, leaving all their positions and were forced to live in a series of damp, cockroach and rat infected houses. Nan eventually divorced my granddad, something virtually in heard of those days and survival was difficult in that pre-welfare state era.  In spite of this, my mum and her brothers all grew up to be decent, hardworking people and remained close, always looking after their mother until her death in the 1980`s.

Mum married my dad at an age that was then considered quite mature, 26. He was only 22. A year later, I was born and mum and dad bought a comfortable semi in the suburbs. The young couple seemed destined for a happy, comfortable life, until my dad deferred his National service for a year in order to finish the apprenticeship he was doing in engineering. This proved to be a fatal move, because soon after, when I was only 9 months old, my dad was tragically killed in a freak accident during army manoeuvres. He died after his spleen was badly damaged, something that would be unlikely to fatal in this day and age. A person can live without a spleen. My dad died at the age of 23, only 2 years younger than my own son is now, and my father and son share the same name.So mum was left a widow at the age of 27 with a young baby and a broken heart.  But of course she carried on, worked hard and later met another man who she was to spend thirty odd years with. She had no more children. Unfortunately, this man, T, developed rheumatoid arthritis in his late 20`s and was to die at the age of 59 from complications of a body ravaged by this nasty disease. Wheel chair bound and unable to look after himself at the end, it was a difficult time for my mum and was it was probably a relief when he passed away. I mean this only in the respect that it is difficult to see someone living in chronic pain as their independence and quality of life are slowly eroded.
That was 20 years ago. Now I live next door to my mum with my three children and my mum is now 82.  I’ve been noticing for a considerable time now (probably around eight years or more) that my mum was starting to call nearly everything, the thing or the wotsaname.  I have got her to go to the doctors twice in the past about her memory and both times the doctors have said she was marvellous and didn’t need any intervention. But as I am the person with her on a daily basis, I have known for a long time that something is very wrong. In common with many other people who have memory problems, they do seem to make an effort in front of the doctor and how they appear is not always reflective of how they really are. This was certainly the case with my mum. I feel quite bitter because if the doctors had listened to me and understood that sometimes relatives know best, then perhaps she would be in a much better state than the one she’s in now.
What I find infuriating is that my mum won’t acknowledge that there is something wrong even now. I have spoken to the GP who has said that she must come forward herself, but how can this happen when she is not recognising a problem. Her hearing is also quite poor now, and even though she went and got fitted for a £2,000 hearing aid, she says she doesn’t need it and has only ever tried it once! However, she continuously says `what’s he saying` every time anyone speaks, and has done this for nearly a decade now. Why won’t she wear the hearing aid? Why?
It seems to me that everything is unravelling now and it terrifies me as I have no family to consult with, one of the perils of being an only child.
She is becoming increasingly confused and can be quite incoherent at times, but is mostly lucid. Her short term memory is shot to pieces and she can’t retain new information, constantly asking the same questions. I’m ashamed to say I do get frustrated sometimes, but it is hard to remain unaffected.  Another problem is the agitation and inability to relax. She has lost a lot of weight and is always fiddling with stuff, obsessive and really quite paranoid at times. Remembering to take the medication for her numerous health conditions is starting to prove a bit tricky too, as is changing her pain patches.
But in spite of this, she is still the same mum underneath. She still takes immaculate care of her hair and clothes, wears make-up daily, and does her nails carefully. She still has a good sense of humour if I can get her to relax enough to enjoy a funny anecdote or watch a comedy on the telly. She is still charming when she is up to it and people seem to like her enormously. A tot of alcohol seems to help if I can get to take one, helps to mellow her out a bit. Her house is very clean and modern although her tendency to order countless things on the shopping channels have resulted in a lot of clutter, fortunately contained mainly in a couple of rooms.
I don’t profess to be an expert on dementia type conditions in the elderly but would say that my mum is suffering from some sort of vascular dementia brought on by several mini stokes (of TIA`s ) that she has had in the past. Many years of high blood pressure can’t have helped either.

It is so heartbreaking to see my own mum looking like she is heading towards dementia. Heartbreaking and frightening. I don’t know what the answer is or where to go for help as my GP practice are doing their best to turn a blind eye. I just hope it never gets to the stage where I am unable to cope.  I pray to keep strong enough to deal with whatever hand fate throws at us. 

It’s so scary! My mother has always been a person of great spirit: one of life’s survivors. She had a childhood filled with poverty with an alcoholic father who frequently hit my tiny little, pinafore wearing Nan after bouts of drink fuelled paranoia. After Nan managed to get away from my granddad, she and the family fled, leaving all their positions and were forced to live in a series of damp, cockroach and rat infected houses. Nan eventually divorced my granddad, something virtually in heard of those days and survival was difficult in that pre-welfare state era.  In spite of this, my mum and her brothers all grew up to be decent, hardworking people and remained close, always looking after their mother until her death in the 1980`s.

Mum married my dad at an age that was then considered quite mature, 26. He was only 22. A year later, I was born and mum and dad bought a comfortable semi in the suburbs. The young couple seemed destined for a happy, comfortable life, until my dad deferred his National service for a year in order to finish the apprenticeship he was doing in engineering. This proved to be a fatal move, because soon after, when I was only 9 months old, my dad was tragically killed in a freak accident during army manoeuvres. He died after his spleen was badly damaged, something that would be unlikely to fatal in this day and age. A person can live without a spleen. My dad died at the age of 23, only 2 years younger than my own son is now, and my father and son share the same name.So mum was left a widow at the age of 27 with a young baby and a broken heart.  But of course she carried on, worked hard and later met another man who she was to spend thirty odd years with. She had no more children. Unfortunately, this man, T, developed rheumatoid arthritis in his late 20`s and was to die at the age of 59 from complications of a body ravaged by this nasty disease. Wheel chair bound and unable to look after himself at the end, it was a difficult time for my mum and was it was probably a relief when he passed away. I mean this only in the respect that it is difficult to see someone living in chronic pain as their independence and quality of life are slowly eroded.

That was 20 years ago. Now I live next door to my mum with my three children and my mum is now 82.  I’ve been noticing for a considerable time now (probably around eight years or more) that my mum was starting to call nearly everything, the thing or the wotsaname.  I have got her to go to the doctors twice in the past about her memory and both times the doctors have said she was marvellous and didn’t need any intervention. But as I am the person with her on a daily basis, I have known for a long time that something is very wrong. In common with many other people who have memory problems, they do seem to make an effort in front of the doctor and how they appear is not always reflective of how they really are. This was certainly the case with my mum. I feel quite bitter because if the doctors had listened to me and understood that sometimes relatives know best, then perhaps she would be in a much better state than the one she’s in now.

What I find infuriating is that my mum won’t acknowledge that there is something wrong even now. I have spoken to the GP who has said that she must come forward herself, but how can this happen when she is not recognising a problem. Her hearing is also quite poor now, and even though she went and got fitted for a £2,000 hearing aid, she says she doesn’t need it and has only ever tried it once! However, she continuously says `what’s he saying` every time anyone speaks, and has done this for nearly a decade now. Why won’t she wear the hearing aid? Why?
It seems to me that everything is unravelling now and it terrifies me as I have no family to consult with, one of the perils of being an only child.
She is becoming increasingly confused and can be quite incoherent at times, but is mostly lucid. Her short term memory is shot to pieces and she can’t retain new information, constantly asking the same questions. I’m ashamed to say I do get frustrated sometimes, but it is hard to remain unaffected.  Another problem is the agitation and inability to relax. She has lost a lot of weight and is always fiddling with stuff, obsessive and really quite paranoid at times. Remembering to take the medication for her numerous health conditions is starting to prove a bit tricky too, as is changing her pain patches.
But in spite of this, she is still the same mum underneath. She still takes immaculate care of her hair and clothes, wears make-up daily, and does her nails carefully. She still has a good sense of humour if I can get her to relax enough to enjoy a funny anecdote or watch a comedy on the telly. She is still charming when she is up to it and people seem to like her enormously. A tot of alcohol seems to help if I can get to take one, helps to mellow her out a bit. Her house is very clean and modern although her tendency to order countless things on the shopping channels have resulted in a lot of clutter, fortunately contained mainly in a couple of rooms.
I don’t profess to be an expert on dementia type conditions in the elderly but would say that my mum is suffering from some sort of vascular dementia brought on by several mini stokes (of TIA`s ) that she has had in the past. Many years of high blood pressure can’t have helped either.

It is so heartbreaking to see my own mum looking like she is heading towards dementia. Heartbreaking and frightening. I don’t know what the answer is or where to go for help as my GP practice are doing their best to turn a blind eye. I just hope it never gets to the stage where I am unable to cope.  I pray to keep strong enough to deal with whatever hand fate throws at us. 

We got the note......

YES! WE GOT THE NOTE! 

If you read yesterday`s blog, you`ll understand how important it was for my little Ellie-twin to get a note from the doctor to say she was fit and well and could take part in a show, due to be televised next week. Phew! Cant wait to tell her now, she`ll be over the moon. Wah-hey!

Just been to the hairdressers and had my hair newly blonded and flicked out, it looks lovely, even if I say myself. Pity I`m not going out though, especially as the girls are going to T`s for the weekend (their dad`s). I was contemplating going tonight out but this weather is horrendous for June. Torrential rain and wind. Think I`ll just stay in and watch Big Brother.

Final Bit of news for today. I`ve finally found someone to come and do a variety of jobs for me. One of the pitfalls of being a singleton, especially one with kids, is the lack of someone to help me maintain the house. Its kind of been falling into dis-repair lately and deffo needs a bit of TLC. A bloke whose a friend of a neighbour has agreed to do some jobs at a reasonable rate for both me and my mother in her house. I`ve got a list as long as your arm, of jobs to be done, but to start, he`s coming next week to fit a new double glazed window in the girls room. Paid a deposit for the glass, so its systems go!  Cant wait to get both myself and the house back in good shape again................................

Today`s drama - Begging at the doctors

The thing is, one of my little daughters, Molly, is a greater lover of the performing arts. To give her full credit, she does spend most of her weekends rehearsing for various shows and never misses, rain or shine. Now, this isn`t me being a pushy mother...... to be honest, I`d prefer that she eased up a bit, but she pleads to do these things and I do want to encourage her. Its not cheap either, fees for LIPA (Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts) are not cheap, and her sister Dolly goes there too. They both attend the 4:19 Saturday school. (actually it was their annual show last week, but that`s another story). ANYWAY, Molly also attends a theatre group, which puts on several shows a year and is currently rehearsing for three shows with them.


SO, the thing is, one of the shows (which is kind of a GLEE tribute show) is next week in Wales. Then out of the blue, last night, the organiser tells us, due to this show being televised by SKY Television, we need notes from our doctors to say our child is fit and well, and it must be submitted b the weekend.Apparently this was due to some change in council regulation. PANIC STATIONS!!!!!!  Notes from the doctor normally take around two weeks not too day.I went in to our GP to ask them could we have this note as a matter of urgency. No chance! I begged, pleaded, told the how my daughter would be broken hearted. All to no avail. Eventually I wrote it all in a letter and passed it to the practice manager with more grovelling and pleading. Then after school, my mum took Molly in to the doctors to show them in person what a heart broken child looks like. So eventually, they said they would mark the note urgent (see perserverance  wins in the end).
But we still don`t know if we`ll get this note in time. I`m really hoping it will. Please let it arrive tomorrow! I cant stand to see the kids disappointed like this. I`ll let you know if it comes.


Other news today. Finally got my mum to order a new freezer. My god, she goes on every day without fail about how she needs a new one, but when we go to look, she can never decide. SO today, I decided for her and we ordered one. Sometimes you`ve just got to take control or nothing gets done.


Took some stuff back to Marks & Spencers too. The assistant asked why I was taking a shirt back which mum had bought for my son and was quite amused when I told her he didn`t like it cos it was like one Alan Tichmarch would wear! Pretty good reason if you ask me..............

This isn't really true, is it?

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Zumba

.. Phew. This zumba lark is hard work, especially in this hot weather. My face was as red as a boiled beetroot tonight , not a very attractive look as you can imagine!
But as rubbish as I am at, I think I can see the glimmer of Improvement in my fitness and don't think I look quite as much of a lumbering, shambolic idiot as I first did!  Although I still do a bit
Think I'm sorry that I've spent so many years not keeping fit and letting the weight creep on. I'm paying the price now as it's all so much harder, but hopefully not too late.
So back to zumba. It's much more fun than the gym and more of a laugh. And even though I'm not on the front row with the slim, superfit young things, I'm edging my way to the middle..........

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The perils of twitter

The Perils of twitter? While it must be said that twitter can be great fun, there can also be a kind of bleakness to it. I love twitter, the characters that appear daily in front of your eyes are diverse; some kind, some crude, some witty, some profound, some fragile or paranoid. And you can take it or leave it, pop it back in its box when you`ve finished with it. I can`t imagine even envisaging that such a thing would exits when I was a youngster. Even mobile phones were a thing of science fictions fantasy. I mean, who`d of thunk it in the old days?
But the world of social networking can be a confusing one, and networks like twitter even more so. I find with facebook, a good proportion of my friends are friends from real life. Old school friends and work colleagues etc, with the odd friend of a friend thrown in for good measure. But twitter followers on the other hand, are made up predominantly from strangers.

Now sometimes these strangers start to become a little more, you begin to look out for them, share a joke, problems and a connection is made. Now one of my particular friends who I have chatted to for some years now, and shared confidences and some pretty good banter, has disappeared from my timeline. Strange, but on closer inspection, it seems this friend has blocked me and suddenly protected their tweets. I don`t even remember having a bad word or disagreement with this person so am quite mystified. Its not the end of the world, and I`m not particularly upset about this. But I am curious as to why someone would do this. I expect the person has their reasons, or it could just be that they`re a nutter! But I do think that an emotionally fragile or vulnerable person could be quite distressed by the potential transience of the social network relationship. SO THE MORAL OF THIS STORY! Get your phone out and ring some of your old friends for a chat. There was a lot to be said for pre-mobile/twitter/facebook days when you had to get out of your bedroom and actually go out in order to socialise! *sighs a nostalgic sigh*