We got a call from Mum’s carer this morning to say they couldn’t gain access.
Fearing the worst, we dutifully hotfooted it down to the house.
The carer was inside and Mum was sitting in her bathrobe looking disgruntled.
Apparently she’d heard the knocking, window tapping and increasingly concerned calls through the letterbox.
She simply decided to ignore it.
While we there she also refused medication until cajoled to take the damned things.
You know, the ones that are prolonging her life.
The rank smell from her back garden turned out to be a food bin which hadn’t been emptied for Lord only knows how long.
She had been dropping alsorts of packaged old food and so the binmen had refused to empty it.
I emptied it into the general household bin and bleached and rinsed it out.
Fortunately I have very little sense of smell (polyps) so beavered away while Gill retched.
We’ve added a back door key to the key safe and pinched the spare. She never goes out so hopefully won’t notice.
Ah the joys
