I’m there for her, but who’s there for me?
… or how to feel very sorry for yourself!
No, it’s not my wife, partner, soul-mate or better half, but my dear mother.
Mum is 86 years old. A couple of years ago, I nursed her through cancer and she survived. But the chemo, together with her advancing years has messed her memory.
So we have very repetitive conversations, she asks me the same questions time after time after …
And I am getting tired.
All I want to do is to go to Kenya to kick-start the many projects that are just waiting for me to … well … kick-start them.
Instead, I am sitting here, doing the odd job, “fixing” computers for people who are too dumb to own one (not all, but some), and keeping an eye on Mum, making sure she doesn’t do anything daft, like leaving the cooker on at full pelt, putting her debit card/glasses/hearing aid/handbag somewhere where she will never find it, playing with the buttons on the central heating , etc.
I have a girlfriend, Liz, who would be happy to help out, but she lives in Kenya and there is little chance of her coming to live in the UK, not least because I believe that her children are receiving a better education there than they ever would here.
Also, they live on the coast where the temperature never drops below 20C. How would they ever cope with our weather with temperatures of -8°C. Liz even finds Nairobi cold!
So, just at the moment, I am feeling very sorry for myself.