On dropping in

When I got back from Stornoway with all the carefully worked out plans for the new house we sat down for a good couple of hours and went through just how it was going to work. I explained to Mrs P that she would have her own sitting room, bedroom and bathroom - and kitchen. ‘Why do I need a kitchen if I’m eating with you?’. No - you won’t be eating with us, you will have your own completely self-contained part of the house all set up to make your life as easy as possible and we will have our own lives back. ‘Okay, so I will really be living on my own?’. Yes. Sorted.

Fast forward a week. We decide to take a trip round Next Home to check out the furniture after finding out that they will deliver to Lewis and Mrs P asks if she can come with us. After behaving like a sullen child - try that chair with a cushion ‘I don’t like the colour of that cushion’ - throws it aside - and then says ‘ This chair isn’t very comfortable’ we get to the tables. Find a nice small square table and say - that’s the sort of table you need. ‘Why do I need a table?’ Well. where are you going to eat? …. Wait for it …. ‘But I thought I would be eating with you’. Gordon Bennett!!!!

Back home and a good, stern, talking to is needed. We explained that you would have your own part of the house, with your own kitchen and that you would be living on your own and you agreed didn’t you? ‘Yes’. So why do you not need a table? ‘Well I know that I would be living on my own but I thought we would all be eating together’. Give me strength!!

It took another two hours with some very, very, harsh words from me before the light dawned. I patiently and dispassionately explained that I just couldn’t share the same space as her because I have my own life which has nothing whatsoever in common with her perception of what life should be. ‘So, you hate me then?’ Did I say that??? Well, if it helps

She finally got it (I think) and went to bed. Funny thing is that the following morning she was brighter and cheerier - grown up even. Better than she’d been since she got here. It might have finally sunk in.

But I’m not that daft. If anyone wants a slightly less miserable 87 year-old in the corner of their living room please leave your contact details in the comments.