Today had a seriously difficult start. T was completely intractable – only a step from my being unable to control him. And by that I mean to get him to do what I need him to do to make the day run smoothly.
The night was a bit fractured thanks to Byelection interruptions. One for each party, including the one that should never have been. But he slept through.
The start to the day was not helped by being disturbed by a meter reader at 08.15. I found this annoying. Last time he visited, he decided not to bother because I had Covid.
Sadiq Khan – although needed, your Ulez measure is unpopular. Why is it so unpopular? Because it hurts where constituents are already hurting. Think carefully about timing and support. or Labour will lose London. I don’t think Keir is very pleased with you.
T did not want to get up this morning and was absolutely foul and bad tempered. He didn’t know what Social Club was, nor why he had to get up for it and didn’t want to go or get up anyway. (Fortunately I had given him all his tablets, otherwise that would have been another battle) He refused to shower, didn’t know what to do with his trousers and carried on in this vein.
I did manage to get him out of the house and drop him off but he showed no recognition of the venue. Of course he missed last Wednesday due to the GP appointment. Can that have really made such a difference?
I considered giving the centre a ring to warn them he might be difficult, but did not.
H and I wandered round Castle Meadows in warm sunshine, mindfully occupying the lower lower mindfulness bench for a while. We dutifully admired the two Galgos. Whilst researching the dog breed on the internet, I came upon the most horrendous story of National cruelty to this breed. A Spanish hunting dog. Spaniards – you should be ashamed of yourselves.
They kill thousands of these dogs each year. 60,000. It’s easier to breed new ones than feed older ones . Spanish hunters believe making them suffer as they die makes for a more successful hunting season. Sometimes they hang them. That’s the tip of the tale.
And they look like a certain Cretan hunting dog. The two I saw were black.
https://www.galgoamigo.com/the-plight-of-the-spanish-galgos.html
The above is a link to a heart rending tale, if true. I can’t bring myself to watch the vids.
I returned home to deal with a load of irritating short chores eg watering plants which should ensure it rains. With an eye on the clouds and that very possibility, the washing went on the indoor airer.
The kitchen was tidied but I did not get around to dealing with the increasing cardboard mountain or dealing with mowing the lawn and the weeds.
Instead, I fell asleep.
The alarm jolted me into consciousness and I ventured out to pick up T. He seemed in a better mood than this morning. There are some advantages in having little / no memory.
But I know what he did, thanks to Face book.
Tomorrow we are going to visit the Kurt Jackson ‘River’ exhibition at Greenham. He works in interesting ways. I saw a clip about him on TV. We are meeting Marie and Anthony. Anthony was an artist in his own right before dementia gripped him. We need to avoid the Park Run.
I put the golf highlights on BBC2 and that amused us for a couple of hours. All those hours devoted to Wimbledon and no live golf or cricket.
Thought for the Day
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