All the old carcasses

Sam was going to make porridge for me this morning, but I was too slow in getting out of bed. But you promised? He just shook his head.

He put moisturiser on my face, though. Lovely.

He left at 8am and I got up and waved him good-bye over the balcony. Air kisses abound. Then I was awake.

I headed around to the shop and got cigarettes. I made muesli and coffee and headed back to bed with Buddy.

Oh what to do today? I thought.

Jill text me to say she was on her way over. I responded saying I was heading over to see my mum. I was going by train, yesterday’s trip inspired me. She responded by saying that she would drive me. I said to her that I was going to catch the train and I didn’t want to put her through that. She rang to say she wanted to drop off the light fitting, the vacuum and the towels before her dad caught wind of it all. I said that it wasn’t so pleasant visiting the nursing home and I didn’t want to put her through it. She reminded me of what she’d been through – her mum had gone the same way as mine, and her father is failing physically. Okay, I said. She was already on her way and she’d be here soon.

Is she determined? Or just bored? Not really sure, and, you know, maybe I don’t have to think about it.

I got in the shower and got ready.

There mum was, a white-hired apparition being helped on to her walker, in the distance. I quizzed her as to who I was, I probably shouldn’t have, but I did, I guess, it is human natured, you know, to want to know that your mother still knows who you are. She said my name and grabbed my hand, she knew who I was, which, I guess, is a good thing. I hadn’t seen her since December 21st, since I’d been away on holidays.

She is very frail, she had great trouble walking, but we managed to get her outside into the garden.

She seemed to be off her face on drugs, as she sat on the seat in the sun. I don’t know, maybe she was, maybe it is just a stage of the disease?

We chatted, for a bit, which was difficult. I lead the conversation mostly, she replied with yes, or no. I told her everything I had been doing. She seemed to listen intently.

She looked so frail sitting there.

I took her hand, as it was time to go, her skin is still soft and her hand felt warm in mine. I tried to fight them back, as I gazed at her soft, staring expression, looking so old and so lifeless, but the tears began to roll gently down my cheeks, as I looked at her and looked at her hand in mine.


I got a pork roll and got my haircut. It was lovely sunny day in Smith Street. You wouldn’t be dead for quids, hey? Oh, shake it all out, fingers to toes and back again. Up and down my spine, look around, shake. Breath in the life, breath in the essence of all that is living, and look forward. Remember all that was good about my beautiful mother and try not to dwell on the here and now.


I read about Tom Bridgroom in the afternoon. A very sad story about a very much in love gay couple who had their whole lives in front of them. And then there was a terrible accident and… go look it up on the net.

I don’t know if I was still emotional from visiting my mum in the morning, but I had tears flowing down my cheeks all afternoon.

There is nothing like a good cry, to blow the cobwebs from the emotional tracks.


Shane mentioned the new vacuum, from Jill, which was still sitting in the atrium unpacked. No doubt Shane wanted to open it and use it, but he didn’t actually say so, so I didn’t offer.

The story of the vacuums, Jesus what a carry on. Guadeloupe doesn’t like using the ducted vacuuming system, she blocks it up all the time. And I wanted to get rid of Guadeloupe, as I wasn’t working so much and I thought we should be able to do our own cleaning, so Shane said he would take over everything to do with her. So, Shane bought her a vacuum to use, which was cheap, and it broke. So Shane started to borrow Dante’s vacuum. (Dante has been referred to as he-who-shall-never-be-mentioned and D and now I am using his name. Keeping up?) Then, I happened to be at Jill’s and she had an old Volta which she said worked completely fine but it was too heavy and she wanted a lighter one, so she gave it to me. Well, as it turned out, it didn’t work just fine, so she has bought me a new one to replace the Volta that didn’t work. In the mean time, Mark came and staid and he checked over the ducted system, saying there was nothing wrong with it and that Guadeloupe should use it, which she has been doing ever since.

So we had all of these old vacuums littering the house and they were on my mind, as they seemed to be in every corner of the house. I noticed that Dante’s vacuum was in the cupboard upstairs, wand I mentioned to Shane… in the spirit of getting rid of all the vacuum carcass’.

“Oh that’s good. I thought Mark threw it out. I’ll tell Dante to come and get it.”

Later in the afternoon, while I was eating dinner, I thought about what Shane said. He thought that Mark threw it out? WTF? What on earth made him think that Mark threw it out? Shane never fails to amaze me with some of the things he thinks. Where exactly did he think Mark threw it out to? Mark had no car, or means of disposing of any rubbish when he was here. It makes no sense. What were the factors that made him think that? He obviously told Dante that Mark threw his vacuum out. Shane is such a moron, sometimes. He has such an irrational dislike of Mark, I’m not sure why. Well, I do, Mark is successful at all the things he does. It is just jealousy… when Mark has been nothing but nice to Shane.

And Dantes vacuum? It is contempt for Dante, really. The vacuum was in the hallway cupboard where, admittedly, Mark may well have put it. So, when Dante asked for his vacuum back, Shane put exactly zero effort into finding it, a vacuum that Shane borrowed in good faith. He didn’t ask me if I’d seen it. He obviously didn’t look for it. He just said, rather head-scratchingly that Mark threw it out.