My mother recently suffered from a heart scare and was rushed, by ambulance, to a London hospital. She was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation, a condition which my husband also suffers from and given a raft of tablets to manage her health. Obviously it was a shock for everyone, but she's feeling very self-pitying about it all and won't change her GP, however hard the family are trying to persuade her to.
The positive side of this recent occurance is that I'm now on better terms with various family members.
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I cannot recall whether I've previously written about my Mother's new obsession? Well, if I haven't, it's her recently acquired retired racing greyhound, a bitch that she re-named (in a non-gender specific way, Willow). Now that me and my brother are fully grown up (physically, if not mentally) and the grandchildren aren't quite as young, loveable and willing to be lectured by her, she clearly craved a new focus in her life.
Don't get me wrong, Willow The Dog is a beautiful creature - lean, glossy and with a lovely pair of silky ears. Shadow is, however, rather lively and at two years and nine months of age, took early retirement, due to being a bit of a slowcoach compared to her fellow Romford-based sighthounds on the race track. Willow does go absolutely crazy when people come and visit the house though, which means bolting up and down the room and rolling over on her back. As she's classed as a big dog, it's all a bit overwhelming, especially as I'm used to owning cats, who, as a species, tend to ignore people anyway. Actually, cats are an ideal pet for an Aspie, as they share many of the strange traits, are incredibly aloof and routine based. I did reinforce the need for Mother to obtain some forms of obedience training for Willow, but that didn't go down well as it was seen as a personal criticism.
I had a terrible tension headache building up throughout the visit. I mentioned over lunch, that we should plan a trip to see my Aunt P up in Hertfordshire, as she is in her eighties now and cannot live forever (unless she's a kind of home counties Methusalah). Mother remarked that her Cousin G hadn't spoken to her much since we declined his kind invitation to a Masonic Weekend in Oxford back in 2012ish, a time when he was the Grand Lodge Master (or whatever!) My stepfather, who has undiagnosed Asperger's in my opinion, can't cope with staying away overnight, and I can only do so with a certain amount of planning. The weekend was a social get-together of a Jewish Lodge, and I'm not a follower of that, or any other Faith. There were also two, yes two, formal dinners, which necessitated the wearing of evening dress; I'm pretty sure that Birkenstocks aren't permitted to be worn with a ballgown.
On a lighter note, here are some pictures of my parents' garden:
