'Oh dear what can that matter be
My poor old mother got locked in the lavatory.'
Yep, she did. ABI Brother had just left to go to the pub for a drink and would not be back for a while. He doesn't take his phone out with him as he is scared of losing it, that would be my old phone, years old and worth nothing. Rather than locked in, I think it was a jammed door, but no matter, Mother pressed her emergency pendant alarm and a voice boomed from somewhere, Mrs C, what is the problem? I am locked in, she yelled from the toilet. Call Allan or Darryn, a friend and neighbour respectively. Darryn wasn't answering his phone but eventually his wife did and drove up and came to Mother's rescue.
I don't know how she gets herself in such situations. Once when late step father had a caravan in her backyard, she locked herself in and it was a very warm day. I think she was there for a good while until someone heard her yells.
Little Jo tells her nan, please nan, shut the toilet door when you are in there. No, I am scared of being locked in, so I am not sure why in the case she shut the door.
Well, nothing like the truth to spoil a good story. The above was from me after reading a letter from Mother and her copperplate writing has become shaky. She was locked in her bedroom. She went in to have her afternoon nap but forgot something. The external door handle had fallen off with the spline? and so the door would not open. One other long time female friend turned up too to unlock her after she was set free.
We've had a family weekend and R is so crabby. We sat up until 11 last night waiting for Bone Doctor and Little Jo to come here to stay after they saw a performance, held in the Hawthorn Town Hall where I used to at times go ballroom dancing in about 1978. We chatted until midnight and went to bed, far later than we would normally. Little Jo was so tired, she slept until we woke her at 9.10. R cooked us pancakes and they went on their way.
Sister is Queensland catching some better weather, but via Little Jo, Sister is always on Bone Doctor's back. After a full day of doing things for Little Jo, we asked Bone Doctor if she would like a Scotch before bed. Yes please, she replied. Twelve year old Little Jo said to her mother, do you really think it is good idea to have that? I suppose slapping the face of a child is illegal but I truly could have slapped Little Jo's face at her insolence towards her mother. Bone Doctor does no end of effort for Little Jo and should not be spoken to like that. Yet, the child was only saying what Sister might have said to Bone Doctor.
Did I say R was getting crabby?
We had said we would take Mother out for lunch this Sunday after not having seen her for a few weeks while we were travelling. That was before we knew that Bone Doctor and Little Jo would be staying the night before. It was all a bit much for R, and he became very crabby.
We took Mother out for lunch and ABI Brother came along too. Mother is cold at his place. I told ABI Brother, you are getting paid to look after Mother. Turn you heating up and make sure she is warm. He replied, I will be in a singlet. I replied, if that is what it takes.
So, a fifty minute drive there and a fifty minute drive back. No trucks on the road on Sunday. Lunch took a while. Mother does manage to string out a pot of tea.
Not so bad. Home by 4pm. Where is my wallet and phone? After searching, I correctly guessed I had left them at Mother's. I think she had gone for a sleep but after I rang three times, she did answer and confirmed my phone and wallet were on the table. R said, get them tomorrow. I said, no, traffic is light now, I will be back by 6pm, and I pretty well was.
R is exhausted. I am just weary. It is 8.40pm and I just heard R snore in his lounge chair. Did I mention he is ever so crabby?
Edited and R's great nephew photo removed.