My mother resists getting up in the morning- like a sulky kid- and who can blame her? But letting her stay in bed would be tantamount to saying, "OK, you can die now"- and it's not in our unwritten contract to let that happen. When she started with the attitude- about a year ago- I reacted with anger (a sure sign of feeling out of control) but now I get jolly.
Jolly but firm.
All those tough, no-nonsense nannies and matrons and nursing sisters of yore: I know exactly where they were coming from.
Yesterday was sunny- and I sat out on the patio and even went to sleep there. Today has been grey and misty but mild.
Today's Telegraph Magazine has an interview with actor and director, Chiwetel Ejiofor in which he expresses his ambition to be "a brief chronicle of the times". I thought I could make a blog post out of this but what I made of it was a ramble that never went anywhere particularly interesting and when it was finished I deleted it. The complete phrase is "abstract and brief chronicle"- and it comes from the speech in which Hamlet commends the players to Polonius- and could be the deepest thing anyone ever said about actors. The ramble tried to explain it- but you can't explain poetry- which is either the best possible way of saying a thing or isn't really poetry at all.
I've been dipping into a long-standing blog by a chap around my age who goes by the moniker Nigeness (in tribute I think to the eternal schoolboy Nigel Molesworth.) We both like poetry and old churches and 17th century monuments. I don't suppose he'll see this but if he does, I'm giving him a friendly wave.