2022 and all that

The weather’s back to being beautiful, and looks like staying that way for a few days. Meanwhile, life goes on…

Leon and Lily are still enjoying my garden and the local wholesale fresh fish delivery services.

Zach and Chynna’s pups born on my birthday are growing up.

Dominic Cummings is making a national ass of himself and Boris. Even the Daily Mail has turned against them!

I’m absurdly happy to have managed to book an Asda delivery for the day I get back to Cardiff. It’s either that or food parcels because the Welsh government isn’t allowing the highly vulnerable to register on Gov.uk, as you can do in England.

The supermarkets might just about get the promised list of Welsh Highly Vulnerable residents in time for our release from lockdown.

Dad continues to improve and is eating well. Our attention has turned to beautifying his garden in preparation for a socially distanced gathering for Mum and/or his cancelled 90th later in the year.

I’m still spending a lot of time filling in forms to do with Mum and Dad’s affairs and applications. My latest headache is trying to claim back the money Dad spent on his cancelled party. Seems that “fear of Covid” isn’t a valid reason, despite government advice to avoid large family gatherings.

Dad and I are overwhelmed by the number of cards, letters, emails, phone calls and messages we’ve received, and they’re still arriving! Dad wanted me to thank everyone and apologise for not being able to reply to everyone personally. It really is a tribute to Mum’s charm and popularity in so many spheres.

The weather’s beautiful again now. Am up at my favourite spot by Dethick church.

The last few days have all been about paperwork: beginning the process of transferring Mum’s assets into Dad’s name. Mum’s will is very simple and leaves everything to Dad, except for £100 to her godson David. He’s her friend Chris’s son and is now a filthy rich banker living in New York.

I’m supposed to put a value on household goods too, but Mum and Dad live very simply and Mum had no jewellery to speak of.

I’ll also be applying for Attendance Allowance and a Blue Badge for Dad. He’s dramatically improved and is even taking Chloe out for a short walk every morning. Today the carers called me in consternation because he’s told them he doesn’t need them any more. I’m hoping he’ll reconsider and have at least one visit daily for another week or two.

In the hope of getting Dad more interested in food, I reordered a couple of favourite cookbooks that somehow got chucked out in their move last year: Delia and Mary Berry of course! Dad’s appetite is back but he still can’t really be bothered with preparing healthy things.

I spoke to my accountant this morning. As I have a Limited Company, I could furlough myself but would have to stop work entirely and would only be entitled to just over £500 per month. I’ll earn more by doing the bits of work that are dribbling in. Can’t help feeling a bit envious of self-employed colleagues who’ve just been granted a one-off grant of a few thousand.

Yesterday I had a day to myself and traded in my ancient Volvo estate for a newer, smaller model I’ve had my eye on since the start of lockdown. It felt good to do something nice for a change.

We’ve given Mum a send off, though not quite the one she deserved. Everything went without a hitch in the end, despite my road being closed for the day.

Richard, Michael, Jeni and Ross arrived from Scotland via cousin Debbie’s, complete with delicious lemon cakes from Debbie.

Leon and Lily came from Cardiff and we had a stream of messages and phone calls from people who couldn’t be there.

I’d been in a quandary about Chloe and Lottie. It wasn’t fair to ask someone to have them or leave them in my guest house, so I’d decided to leave them in the car in the shade with the windows opened. In the end, wonderful Russell, the funeral director, asked if we could take them into the service. Nothing could have been more perfect for Mum, who loved the dogs at least as much as most of the humans present!

The service was sensitively led by Steve, our celebrant, who (we learned from Russell) used to act the role of a policeman on Heartbeat. He’d listened carefully to everything I’d told him about Mum and his eulogy described her to a T. The photos in the visual tribute went down well too, especially with Dad, who hadn’t been expecting them.

Afterwards we all had a brief toast in the garden at Lea Wood Croft before everyone set off on their long drives home. Chloe’s back home with Dad at Lea Wood Croft now he’s so much better.

Just a day to go until Mum’s funeral now. It will be an in-and-out affair with everyone setting out to drive home straight away and no wake.

In the end I’ve decided to leave the eulogy to the celebrant and have given him all the information he needs. Dad was going to write a poem but the muse has so far deserted him. We’ll have a much better party for her in the future.

Luckily I was able to lay my hands on some lovely photos of Mum for the visual tribute.