Latest Facebook post for Tuesday's photos.
My captions self-explanatory.
"Sad, if only as indication of how brutalised I've become since March 2006 when I arrived in Corfu to perform the job of Caregiver for my mother.
It lasted thru to December 2012 when she became too bedridden to work in the garden, and I escaped the appalling grind of under-hobbyist, and I took her a tray in bed and escaped the terrible dementia repeatia that made meals such torture. Often including gardenry repeatia, double hell.
I'm wading thru the contents of the house, ruthless discarding, and I must have come across this sketch I made and sent when I was 16 of crossed guitars.
My mother brilliantly turned it into a printer plate for cards.
She must have kept it all these 50 years; so sad that the final 6 years' caregrovelgardenry reduced the memory to naught.
Ironic. It must have slipped from the rubbish bag.
I saw it as I was about to drive away, snapped it to ram home the irony, then dropped it in the roobish.
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