Ninety Two Today

7th November 2011 Monday

I wake up with a streaming cold.

I talk art with my hairdresser as she snips away at my head with her scissors.

I try on a pair of brown leather ankle boots. They remind me too much of Chelsea boots men wore in the sixties so I leave them in the shop.

We eat last Saturday’s fish curry for lunch with my husband’s green tomato and chilli chutney. At least he eats it - too pungent for me.

My sister and I meet in the car park of the new home my father is going into. The manager is warm and soothing. We choose one of the two rooms available and discuss where to put his recliner chair and TV. You can see sheep in a field from the window.

At the hospital my father is lying on the bed in a crooked way. He has been fitted with a catheter and he says he’s afraid to move in case the tube comes out. We call a nurse who reassures him. His visitor doesn’t stay too long and he opens our presents including a soft fleecy dressing gown in blue stripes. Throw the other one away, he says. He blows out the two candles on his birthday cake and doesn’t seem to mind that it’s raw in the middle. But I do.

Back home my husband makes cheese on toast for his supper and peels a whole bulb of garlic for me to chop up and throw in with the tomato quarters I’m planning to roast. I’m afraid my cooking is lazy at the moment - not doing anything new - going for what I’ve made a thousand times before. So I don't have to think. I put the sticky ginger birthday cake in the oven under the tomatoes and bake it for another hour.

Last night I slept in the spare room because my husband was snoring. I’ll probably sleep there again tonight because I’ll be snoring - my nose all blocked up. But at least I won’t be worrying about my father in wet sheets.