Many people have asked about my parents following earlier posts. So, including a photograph of them here. They have good days and bad, it goes without saying that they would rather be at home, than in nursing homes. But their safety and well being is the priority. They are being well looked after and meet up regularly. I’m very grateful to my aunts, cousins, neighbours and mum’s former work colleagues who visit regularly.I feel weighed down by the amount of admin: the form filling in, legal and financial side of things. Obviously the Registrar and Solicitor General (who oversaw my application to become Curator for both parents – similar to Power of Attorney in the UK) had to make sure that I am a suitable candidate for the post – the old adage of ‘jumping through hoops’ comes to mind. Nothing could be completed in one trip. Nor could I say when I planned to be in Jersey next, it was a case of ‘we will send you an appointment time’ – as if I was a short drive away. Each time I feel I’ve made progress, there seems to be a catch or problem. For instance, bearing in mind that this all came to a head in December – I finally received a cheque book two weeks ago – the first one having been sent to my parents’ address in Jersey, requiring a replacement being sent to me in the UK … cheque book has my name ‘Curator for’ … then my mother’s name. I was hugely relieved as I’ve been stalling on paying some of the larger bills, while paying the smaller ones out of my own pocket. However, when I attempted to set up internet, then telephone banking, I was advised that because I am in the UK and the accounts are in Jersey – I can’t have that option. I tried visiting my local branch of Lloyds, they can’t help either. This means, that although I have (at last!!!) a cheque book – I do not have any means of transferring funds into the new cheque account unless I visit my parents’ bank in Jersey and make it in person – showing ID and the document of Curatorship.
The ‘down’ in the ups and downs – is that my car has died. I can’t complain at the service it has given – over 250,000 miles on the clock! as far North as Loch Lomond, countless visits to Jersey, too many journeys up and down the M3 and the A31, in and out of London – The Albert Hall, Lewes, Brighton,dog rescues, dog transport, 101 trips to the garden centre and back laden with plants … sadly, the gear box has had it and too costly to repair. Need to decide what to get next … I like the new Mini Clubman – but with 7 dogs, that might not be the most sensible option.
So … to the ‘ups’ – Up number one. Youngest son Emil has been on work experience – two weeks done, one week to go. He’s in the 2nd year of 3, on a course of ‘Game, Wildlife and Estate Management’ – posh title for what is basically ‘trainee gamekeeper’. He’s been working on a large sporting estate just across the Hampshire border into Wiltshire. It’s not the shooting season, and therefore much of the work he has been doing is maintenance. The day usually begins with feeding the terriers and the gun dogs and then taking them for a walk – which means taking off across the fields on a quad bike with the dogs in pursuit. He has also been on a Deer hunt – out and about on the estate’s 2500 acres locating sick or injured Deer. Every day is different and much of it spent in woodland or fields.
Up number two – receiving an email advising that one of my poems has been short listed in the Brian Dempsey Memorial Prize 2017 and will soon be printed in an anthology ‘Poems for Keeps’ which will be launched in July of this year: my poem, The Conger Eel Confessional – is based on childhood memories – I would know as soon as I opened my parents’ front door if Conger was cooking – the smell churned my stomach and I would come up with all sorts of convoluted excuses not to eat it! It’s my second poetry success this year – the first one being 2nd place in the Guernsey Literary Festival ‘Poems on the Move’ Competition – that poem ‘ La Fete du Cidre’ is going to be printed on a bus! I’m going to Guernsey next week for the awards ceremony.
And Up number three – a little anecdote told to me be my friend Annie (which may or may not be her name). Annie is a very stylish woman. Always immaculately turned out, despite spending much of the day with her horses and dogs – there were chickens too but the fox got them ALL. So – a couple of weeks ago, Annie’s husband who gets up ridiculously early to commute to the city, called upstairs to Annie, that their cat had brought a mouse into the kitchen – he wasn’t sure if it was dead or alive, he didn’t want to get down on his knees on the kitchen floor while wearing his suit, to find out. When Annie went downstairs a little while later, the cat was still playing with the mouse – just a tiny one – could even have been a shrew … so Annie shoos the cat away – gets the dustpan and brush and thinks she has swept up the mouse. However, there was nothing in the dustpan, nor under the central units in the kitchen, she assumed it had scooted out of the way and would turn up later in the day or make it’s own way out into the garden, as the doors from kitchen to garden are often left open. Like many women I know, myself included, Annie pottered about in her dressing gown doing various house hold chores, including a fair amount of ironing. Suddenly noticing the time – she dashed upstairs to shower. In the bathroom, slipping off her dressing gown, Annie threw it towards the chair – at which point the rather shocked mouse, who had been enjoying a cosy little rest up her sleeve, flew across the room! This time – he jolly well did get put outside!
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