14 July 2012


Odd feeling since my bro and sis-in-law arrived last Sunday morn.

None of the aggro i expected over garden and state of house, my incompetent cooking, etc

Wonderful having company, of course, and i fear the emptiness when they're gone early next week.

Most noticeable: huge relief, of course, on passing of mother and blessèd silence and all the happy surges that came from that ton of daily rubbish ending.

Contention and batterings of course since my brother was of my mother's camp and lived outside the crippling crushing solitary job that reduced me to brainless jelly.

But just to hear a footfall and to have become used over the past days to it not being yet another decrepit dementia repeatia encounter; not another useless meal to send me screaming. To be in a house with other living persons to whom I say something interesting/useful once and am likely to be receptive to the reply.

Very odd feeling and the first time it's washed over me since i arrived here in 2006.

Also reeking with the theft, of course, because i'm now mixing with the villa thefti end of the filcherie.

I'm in the middle and lost and no way forward since the past few days' visits to banker and lawyer and stripping of what little money i had. i expected that but not quite so swiftly transferred. i can now count my daily budget on one hand which is scary.

on balance, company is better than the screams of panic in my head when drifting alone among the corridors.


Simon Baddeley said...

Like the cartoon from PE. Excuse metonymy, but pornography is getting a bit above itself. In the sensible opinion of Mrs Pat, it's starting to "frighten the horses." It does this, now and then, donning a familiar variety of transparent disguises – the ubiquity of the sexual drive, the harm of repression, freedom of speech, fear of being thought prudish, liberation. Blah. Such altruism! Such enrichment for broadcasters and publishers pitching their tents beneath the current New York Times fiction list…an inexperienced college student falls in love with a tortured man who has particular sexual tastes…"ooh er missus"…the first book in a trilogy…"Phwoah" etc. This is impudent. In the kingdom of the flesh a degree of hierarchy works rather well, not censorship, suppression, nor 'decent reticence', but a recognition of place...and, just possibly, love

...All day, the same our postures were,
And wee said nothing, all the day...

και λοιπόν ...will anyone tell you of the honour that attaches to a man who cares for his parent until death. Respect and admiration - in depth and at length!

Corfucius said...

thanks. i thought i'd leaven my dreary whine with that cartoon. EVERY dinner party i go to talks about '50' altho none has read it. i have looked over caroline's shoulder so i am the 1-eyed man. i steer the chat to related subjects: what is 'mummy porn', why can't men write porn (v funny when we've sunk a few and attempt refutation head on, if that's the word.
Honour that attaches: oh dear. i'm afraid i will never acknowledge one sliver of sense in my taking on that appalling job. worst mistake i could have made. every day i curse losing my sanity in that grotesque fashion. all this pumped up hatred and venom and vile memories ... swilling around fresh as Day 1 ... and now no good use to which to put it. nothing and no one will happen now that'll call for even 25% of what fuelled that treadmill of futility.