4th October

 Well, we did it.  We gave Vick a jolly good Zoom send off and a lovely birthday tribute and I am most grateful to all who helped and all who came.  Since some of the guests were well into their eighties and nineties, I thought everyone managed very well with the online aspect of it it all, and the whole thing didn't crash as I feared.  The music, songs, poems and tributes were so marvellous to hear.  

I forgot to say yesterday that Vicky was well known for her daily calamities, that ranged from losing her keys and glasses to getting in a muddle with dates and postcodes, to filling up her handbag with hot water by mistake in a basin on a train, and many more scrapes which we all experienced with her at one time or another.  It is our flaws that make us lovable, not always our virtues, and I loved my mum for all her imperfections.  

Josie 

24th September

 As most of you now know, the event has been shifted onto Zoom, but just a handful of us will still host it on the large screens at Brighton Quaker Meeting House.

It is still October 3rd at 2pm, but we will have the connections open hopefully from 12, and we will be sending the link and more information out about it all in the next week.  Do forward to anyone I may have missed or email me on josiedarling@hotmail.com if you have not received your link by Wednesday 30th.  

I have a marvellous small team around me who are helping with all the technicalities, and I am trying daily to keep on top of the admin.  Vicky knew a lot of people, and she would be laughing about all this hoo-ha.  Shame about the lack of refreshments, but someone suggested we will all make our own cream tea at home, and give the money to the food bank and the Quakers.

I will try and get Vicky's china and books shared out somehow if people would like something to remember her by.

Luckily I am reading a very good book about improvisation, (which both Vick and I liked to do).

The mantra from it is;  NOTICE MORE, USE EVERYTHING, LET GO.

I will have to somehow use the inevitable hiccups on the day to our advantage and let go of all expectations.  

Looking forward to seeing those of you who can come.

Josie

3rd September

 Many thanks to all of you who have already responded to my message on the blog about Vicky's memorial on 3rd October.

It looks like we are going ahead unless we suddenly have to cancel it at the last minute!

I have made a note of all of you who have said you will definitely come.   

We have decided to hold a celebration of Vicky's life at Brighton Quaker Meeting House, Ship Street, Brighton on 3rd October. 2 pm.

This day would have been her 90th birthday.

This will involve a Quaker meeting, some refreshments, a few "turns", and a chance to chat. 

Parking will be limited but the MH is a short walk or taxi ride from the train station.

Please let me know if you would like to do a short poem or story, and guests are also welcome to speak in the Quaker silence if they feel moved to do so. Alternatively, you could send a message that someone else could read.

A decision has not yet been made as to whether a meeting can be held in Winchester to remember Vicky and due to COVID there is no firm date planned - so our focus has been on a celebration event in Brighton.  

The Meeting room is fitted with cameras which will mean that if you decide to attend on Zoom you will be able to feel present and will be a full participant in the Meeting, for people who are shielding or who do not wish to travel.

Also due to COVID restrictions, we need to keep to numbers, so please do not bring extra friends or children.  The limit I believe is 60, and we will be seated one metre apart and wearing masks inside.  

Please could you confirm if you will definitely be coming, or attending on Zoom.  Then I can send a Zoom invitation.

I know Vicky would love the "more the merrier" and it is tragic that only 60 of us can meet.  Vick knows so many lovely people, but once 60 people have confirmed, I am so sad to say we can't have any more in the flesh.  However Zoom knows no limits, so do pass on this post to anyone I may have missed.  I don't have everyone's email or phone numbers but perhaps they can email me if they wish to attend at josiedarling@hotmail.com.

23rd August

 We scattered Vicky's ashes at the headland at Niton on Sunday 16th August at 9am, as Vicky was always a morning person.  30 Darling family members came, and the grey skies turned to torrential rain, but we stood in a circle with the sea on one side and the dramatic rocks on the other, and listened in Quaker silence to the wind and the waves for around ten minutes.  All the small great-grandchildren were quiet miraculously.  We sang "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind" (one of Vick's favourite hymns with lovely words), then two of us played some violin while everyone took turns to tiptoe down the goat path and scatter Vick's ashes into the blackberry bushes which seemed appropriate as she was so good at jam.  Then my brother and his wife lead some Buddhist chanting.  We could not eat the hard-boiled eggs and rolls and tangerines and crisps we had brought in paper bags, as we were soaked to the skin by then, so we squeezed into our holiday caravan nearby to eat them and put the gas fire on to dry off.  Luckily there was a big brown teapot in the caravan, and I remember Vick saying she always missed those when she went abroad, so we drank masses of hot tea.  

I went back to the spot on a golden evening a few days later and it really is a magical spot so I like to think of her there with the peace and the elements.

We have decided to make a definite decision about the venue of the memorial on 3rd October at the start of September, and I will aim to update friends and family individually and/or on this blog then.  Unfortunately, we will also have to be lead by rules regarding COVID but I am hoping we can safely have a gathering perhaps partly outside.

Josie

19th July

We have been discussing having a memorial service for Vicky in Brighton or Ditchling, on 3rd October, which would have been her 90th birthday.  Times are uncertain but we would love to do it, as Vicky was very keen on the idea of a party and a slap-up tea.  It would be useful if anyone reading this could send me a quick email on josiedarling@hotmail.com to say if they could come on that date or not, as a vague idea of numbers would be helpful for choosing the venue.  We quite understand if people would rather not come, due to risks of COVID but hopefully, we can go ahead if we follow all the protocols.  
The other announcement is a scattering of Vicky's ashes at Niton, Isle of Wight, in mid-August.  It is the southernmost point of the Island and a favourite place for picnics when we were young.  The silence there is palpable.  If you would like to come to this event instead of the Memorial, perhaps you could let me know, but it is a remote spot, so we are only expecting diehard IOW fans to come really, or people there on holiday anyway.
I have started to adjust to life without Vick, but hope she is around, maybe in a glass-bottomed boat looking down on us all, as the poet Billy Collins suggests.  
Thanks for reading this, and spread the word about the two events mentioned.  I will post more details as soon as they are confirmed.
Josie

20th May

It has been a strange time for all of us.  For several weeks I felt dead and empty and glum and grumpy but now I am starting to feel more like myself, although my body aches quite a lot as if every cell is sad about Vick's death.  
Things that have helped me are:
1.  Swimming in the soupy sea every day whether I like it or not.
2.  Learning cajun violin on Zoom
3.  Two comical hens in my back garden, Patsy and Pamela.  I watch them endlessly and love attending to their every whim.  They are much better pets than dogs or cats as they produce eggs.
4.  Lots of early nights with my book, allotment hours, games of scrabble, walks, socially distanced chats, and simple pleasures like tasty meals, that we have all enjoyed in this lockdown time.
I have been back at work at the hospital doing my old job two days a week, which I think Vick would approve of, and I do some telephone work for the hospice instead of my acupuncture role.  Also, the process of gaining probate is time-consuming but necessary, so my days have been quite busy.  
I have no update yet about when Vick can have her memorial service.  Her ashes are sitting in a box on my dresser which is quite comforting.  
Life goes on whether we are suffering or not.  The weather is beautiful and so is the month of May. Cow parsley is my favourite flower.
Josie 

17th April

After a sea swim, and going to my allotment to pick blousy yellow tulips, and wildflowers like marigolds, forget-me-nots, rosemary, borage and cow parsley, we put on our best clothes and waited for Vick to arrive in the car outside our house.   Our fantastic neighbours along the road stood outside to pay their respects and the female funeral directors looked smart and quirky, with Vick's cardboard coffin in the back all covered with everyone's cards.  My car did its naughty trick of not starting but we all got there in the end, and Vick would have laughed.  The service was lead by our beautiful sensitive Quaker woman friend, and I and our three daughters were the pallbearers.  We placed the flowers on top of the coffin.  One of my brothers chose lovely music; Corelli and Vaughan Williams.  Otherwise, the base was silence in the chapel, and most of us got up to say a poem or a personal tribute when we felt like it.  We cried and I found myself making involuntary whimpers like a wet dog.  Afterwards, we had apple pie and cream in the gentle rain outside.  The cherry trees were in full bloom and milky primroses were all over the place.  It was wonderful to know other friends and family were marking the moment in separate places.  Overall I think Vick would have approved, but I bet she is looking forward to her memorial with more mates around.
Josie 

14th April

This is the poem I will be reading at Vicky's cremation at 1.30pm on Friday.  It was written by David Scott, who is a good friend of Vicky's.

I love this, as it expresses Vick's sparkle.

For the past three days, I have felt awfully sad and my mouth has been a downwards smile.  My sister died 15 years ago yesterday, and I miss her as well as Vicky.  Due to lockdown, we have to face our difficulties in life more, without merry distractions of activities and friends, but perhaps that is good in the long run.
I am feeling brighter today and just enjoyed a hard-boiled egg for lunch.  I am so grateful for the many cards and letters. 
My friend recited me this incredible poem today, which sums up my feelings, but as Vicky would say,
I need to just go through it.
 Josie

There are no endings

I will not formally stop this blog.  As the title says, there are no endings, and I will put details of the memorial service on here when the COVID restrictions are lifted.  
I have found this blog so useful for updating people, and Vicky and I always loved writing it together and would have a laugh about it.  I would recommend writing a blog to anyone, and it helped me feel so much more connected when I was in isolation with Vick last week.
Thank you so much to everybody who has read it.
Here are a few jolly photos for the time being.
Josie

8th April

Our four children decorated Vick's white cardboard coffin with all the lovely cards people have sent over the past few weeks, and put letters and poems inside.  There was apparently exactly the right amount, with all the space covered but not overcrowded, so that was lucky.  
The cremation will be next Friday 17th April at 1.30 pm in Brighton, but sadly only ten of us can attend, so it will just be me and one of my brothers and our families, and we will have some Quaker silence and speak our own personal tributes as well as a few poems and pieces of music.
All are welcome to the memorial in the future at Brighton MH.  We will announce the date as soon as we can.  And Vicky wanted her ashes scattered on the southernmost point of the Isle of Wight so there will be an outing there once restrictions are lifted.
There will be a notice in The Friend and the Hampshire Chronicle, and hopefully, most of Vicky's friends are aware now.
I am so grateful for so many things, but grief is like the hospice leaflet says it is, a whole mixture of emotions.  My daughter and I have run into the sea every day at 5.15pm as it is low tide then and the water has been calm, like the motionless streets.  It is cruelly cold but somehow life-affirming. 
I have been occupied with much Admin, but I am happy to do it really.  

4th April 4.45 am

I sat with Vicky holding her hand for much of the evening last night as her breathing had changed and she looked closer to the end.  About 11 pm I fell asleep, listening to her breath, and the window was open with the cool breeze blowing over our faces.
The night nurses gently woke me just before 2 am and said she had just gone.  I sat with her for a while and played Lark Ascending on her iPad.
Then I carefully folded and packed up everything in her room.  I gave the nurses her new John Lewis nightie to put on, and all the fantastic cards and poems people have sent will stay with her.  I also left her pale blue blanket and a tasteful material garland of yellow flowers around her that someone must have given her for a present.
I drove home in the deserted streets over the misty beacon and it is nice to be sitting at my kitchen table as I haven't been here for a week.
Vicky will go to Arka, a lovely funeral director in Brighton run by two women.  I will phone them in the morning, and discuss everything, and try to keep everyone in the loop.  
Thanks for reading this, and sending lovely messages.  I feel surrounded by support.

This is a poem I wrote for Vicky for her last birthday.

My mum is a grapefruit
A splash of flavour.
She makes me feel better.

My mum is an amber necklace
Robust and resilient
With a story to tell.

My mum is a squirrel
Sharp and so deft
Alert and able to think

My mum is a fleecy blanket
Smiling and clean
Cosy and warm.

My mum is my moon and sun
Always there in my universe.

Josie

3rd April

I have had a strange day today after a wakeful night drinking tea and reading and listening alertly to Vick's breathing which I thought might stop any minute.
Vick's 89-year-old heart carries on though and I am still here.  One of the health care assistants said it is too full of love to stop.
One thing I forgot to put on the list yesterday, was Write A List Every Day.
I wanted to share the small things that have affected me in the past 24 hours.

1.  I walked out in the twilight last night when the nurses were turning Vicky and an owl swooped right past me, looking at me with its face.
2.  I watched the bats flittering under the trees.
3.  The fat old sheep are having their lambs.  I feel a kinship with them as I am also surrounded by the gentle company of women.
4.  All the nurses and I had a good old clap for the NHS last night, and nurses are a funny breed but I love em.  Vick and I know about nurses as we were nurses.
5.  I had the ingenious idea of soaking my feet once a day in a bowl of scalding hot water then using Vick's lily of the valley talc on them.  
6.  I enjoy washing Vick's face and hands twice a day and smothering posh cream into her skin.
7.  There was a mouse under my bed last night and the night staff were not in the least bit surprised.  It's not too clinical here.
8.  I've always been terrified of rats and mice but I'm overcoming it.  I am studying a family of rats under the bird hide in the wood and they are rather sweet.  Always so busy.
9.  Although I've listened to the book of the week about Dickens, I've just slept this afternoon and haven't done any virtuous yoga or anything much today.  I feel I'm in another dimension and so is Vick.
10.  The bluebells are starting to appear and my lifelong phobia must be due to both my mother and sister dying at this time of year.  Elizabeth Strout writes about "horrifying gorgeousness" and I know what she means.
Josie

2nd April

I like the soft still weather today, with occasional milky sunlight; less cruel than the glaring bright sun.  Vicky's steady heart carries on, despite her unconscious state.  I am allowed out of the room now when they turn her, and the staff have stopped wearing masks, gloves and aprons.  Like a little rabbit in a hutch though, I find the big wide world a bit scary and don't go far.  I tried running around the wood again and felt so unfit.  
I wrote a list of 12 things Vicky taught me.  There are lots more things but these are the main ones.

1. Never be without a notebook, pen and a good novel.
2.  Get up early.  Have a Badedas bubbly bath, put clean clothes on, enjoy your breakfast.  Whatever is going on, keep your standards up.
3.  Choosing the right card and present for someone is important.
4.  Never keep manky flannels, dishcloths, towels or bedding.
5.  Seize the day.  Get on with it.  No point saying "Ain't it awful".  No point dancing with tears in your eyes as no one cares.
6.  Love, light, peace and comfort can be found in stillness, especially Quaker silence, but all religion/spirituality is interesting.
7.  Food must be taken seriously and decent food really helps.  Plan each meal well in advance.  Spread butter and marmalade thickly.
8.  Celebrate the English countryside.  And poetry.
9.  Make your home welcoming.
10.  Keep away from airports.  
11.  Change your mind if you want.  It doesn't matter.  Accept things and don't make a big fuss.
12.  Friends, family, creativity, conversation, laughter, being kind; those things are what matter.
Josie

1st April

Vicky has not woken up or taken any sips today.  I wonder if she can hear music playing or sniff the lavender oil I sprinkle about the place.  She looks very sweet and serene and I can sense the nurses and carers are genuinely fond of her.  They are attentive to all the details and kind to me.  One young carer told me she read Vicky all the poems sent to her last week, and for some reason it made me weep.  She doesn't normally read any poems she said.
When the night nurses were doing the last turn of the night this morning at 6 am I slipped outside the French windows for the first time since Saturday. I solemnly agreed I would not leave the room due to COVID 19 when I arrived, but there was no one about at all and frost on the fields and exciting first light.  I quickly ran around the small woodland nearby which is carpeted with white wood anemones and I felt like a startled deer in a shopping mall.  I was only gone for five minutes but it was amazing to leave the room and get out of breath.  I even saw cold looking lambs standing nearby with their mothers.  
What is it about birds?  I am getting more and more obsessed with watching them.  A male and three female pheasants pecked about outside the window today.  The male looked like he was in fancy dress.  Birdwatching is definitely an interest that grows with age.  Their spindly legs and fast-beating hearts remind me how fragile everything is.  I feel they are going through this experience with me.
Josie

31st March

List of things we have done today
1.  Vicky has mostly slept apart from the odd turn, mouth care, cream on legs and feet and hair brushing.  On the whole, she looks completely comfortable, and I told her she is doing well.
2.  We are listening to 8 hours of birdsong on Youtube which is blissfully relaxing and requires no mental effort on my part.
3.  I have washed myself up as far as I can go and down as far as I can go with a hot flannel as my grandma used to say.
4.  The kitchen sent me my first hot meal for a long time, which was broccoli and stilton quiche, buttery new potatoes, salad and salad cream and queen of puddings, on a tray with a teapot, milk jug and cup.  I sent a note back on my empty tray saying it was the best meal I have ever had.
5.  I tried a ten-minute cardio workout online which was most unpleasant and I didn't finish it.
6.  I much prefered yoga with Adrienne online and a few headstands. 
7.  There are three jackdaws outside now.  I've been studying the wood pigeons and collared doves.
8.  I'm reading Olive Again by Elizabeth Strout.  She describes tiny unpleasant feelings with such accuracy.
9.  I'm reading Pearl by my late sister Julia and feel very much in touch with her.
10. I finished another green square of knitting.
11.  I look at Vicky breathing.  Hope she is having warm dreams.
12.  I think about people and places.
13.  I talk to the nurses, doctors and carers when they come in.  I want to explain what a marvellous job they are doing but can't quite think how to do it without sounding cheesy. 
14.  The housekeepers let me borrow the mop and clean the room as the dust was piling up in great mounds which I noticed when on the yoga mat.
Josie

30th March

Vicky seems a bit further away, although after thinking she was completely unconscious for many hours, she did suddenly say a few words today.  My daughter posted a hairbrush through the open window this morning, and Vicky murmured Marvelous as I brushed her hair.  She is not drinking now so I keep her mouth and lips moist with sponges and vaseline. 
I have never really understood the popular term mindfulness before now.  Watching a wood pigeon outside is a big event. Or eating a pear.  Having the internet, books, knitting, radio and TV channels sometimes makes me feel there is so much to do I don't know what to do first.  Then I remember I don't have to do anything.  One of those corny joke posters you get in workplaces came into my mind.  "Sometimes I sit and think.  Or sometimes I just sit."
I do have to move around a bit though or I get headachy.  My yoga mat is always out and I'm practising headstands. I tried some star jumps to get out of breath but only did about three.
Josie

29th March

Vicky has slept for the past 28 hours since I got here but when the lovely nurses change her position she opens her eyes and smiles and says a few words.  She's not eating but occasionally has a sip of water.  I played her Private Passions, (one of her favourite radio 3 programmes), and I read aloud her emails and poems people have sent, but am not sure how much she hears.  We are at present listening to Hania Rani, a Polish pianist who was on Profile on Radio Four today.  I have always thought if I was bedbound I would learn so much from Radio Four and that is what I've done today.
Sometimes I get up and roll about on the yoga mat I brought, or stare out of the window, or eat some bread and cheese and potter around the room rearranging things.  The nurses bring me flasks of hot water so I can make my own tea.  I rub moisturiser into Vicky's hands and feet. I finished my book Big Sky and will miss the tense plotline although none of the characters were particularly likeable.
Vicky did say she wants to die now but it may be many more days I think as she is such a strong woman. In my nursing career, I suppose I observed dying as normally being a very gradual process.  Unless it is sudden with an acute event.
I have never been so still in my life.  It feels like Vicky and I are in a bubble, floating around in a quiet world.
Josie

28th March

I am writing this blog in plastic gloves and apron and I am next to my beloved mum.  I am hoping to stay here until she dies and Walk Her Home, as Ram Dass says.
Vicky is now very sleepy.  I gently roused her when I arrived an hour ago.  I was wearing a mask and at first, she didn't recognise me and said: "Can Josie not visit?" Then I pulled up my mask and we both cried as we were glad the hospice let me come.  She was a bit muddled and thought I was taking her to watch a film.  She smiled her lovely smile and was pleased when I let her go back to sleep.
I have brought a strange assortment of snacks grabbed from my cupboard, about six books and my knitting.  Luckily I had a bath this morning and got some exercise planting more seeds on my plot, as I will not leave this room for several days now perhaps.  I don't mind how long I am here for.  I just need to be here, and for Vicky not to be alone. 
I will ensure that Vicky sees all the beautiful cards and letters and emails if she opens her eyes again.  I know she would want me to thank everyone.  It is peaceful here.  The weeping willow outside the window has now come into leaf and is a strange bright green.  Daffodils wave about in the wind and Radio Four is on.  It is a pleasant room with ensuite loo and basin.  There is a spare bed.  I feel more at peace than I have done in days.
Josie

26th March

The nurse manager at the hospice phoned me today and said Vicky was less well and sleeping even more.  She is able to eat tiny amounts and take some tablets and still has the syringe pump, and they have promised to telephone if she deteriorates further.  They are having no visitors to the hospice at all, except for exceptional circumstances, and if I am allowed to go any time I will take my nightie and toothbrush so that I am not coming and going. 
I feel up and down in my response to the Corona Virus.  Part of me feels it is teaching me to Be rather than Do all the time, which I have always struggled with, and I know I am fortunate to have enough food and a  nice home.  I am obviously pleased that pollution is reduced to the planet.  Other times I feel anxious about more vulnerable people, and the economy and most of all not being with Vicky. 
I have signed up for NHS nursing for the future; it will be strange wearing a uniform again.
I am now reading Big Sky by Kate Atkinson, and every page is filled with juicy observations. 
I have cleared out a few cupboards, and am using all my children's old school reports to light the wood burner in the evenings.  The dancing in the road is not going well.  It was only me and one other woman this morning.  The allotment has never been so weed-free.
I'm such a chatterer I miss people.  I also miss swimming and both are like food and water to me.
A small drop of whisky in the evening is a great comfort.  I highly recommend it.
Josie

23rd March

We speak to Vicky daily on Facetime.  She had a temperature on Saturday but she has recovered.  She has a strong constitution.  Vicky remains valiant and chatty even though she can't see or hear us that well.
I woke up with a headache and a slight fever yesterday and spent the day in bed.  Today I'm up and dressed but have no energy so am parked on the sofa with my laptop, and book.  My husband and son are mostly recovered too.   It is strange that it is all a bit like being on holiday, with one's family, eating, reading.  Is it a hardship or is it a pleasure?  I don't like being inside all the time, but I find the spring sunshine a bit cold and cruel.  
I feel very aware of how much I love everybody; friends and family.  

One of the best limericks with my friend in Hove, sending a line each, goes like this:

On the day when the eggs cost ten pounds
I set off on my horse with the hounds
I chased after a chicken
It was called Dirk Tippin
And it made the most un-chicken like sounds.  

Josie

20th March

Day 5 of isolation.  I miss me mum but there is nothing I can do.  I showed her around our house on Facetime yesterday which she enjoyed as she had not been able to get up the loft stairs to our bedroom for years.  I even showed her the rhubarb crumble in the oven which she approved of, as I have a glut of rhubarb on the allotment.
It is still the two men in the house who are ill, and us three women are not showing symptoms yet.  It is a bit like Christmas without the food.  Or drink. Kind friends and neighbours have left lovely foodie parcels on the doorstep, so we are not hungry and have an online shop coming this weekend.  
We have played several games of scrabble and chess.  My friend in Hove and I are sending one line of a limerick to each other on email, replying when we have a spare moment.  My lodger and I have played some folk tunes on guitar and violin.  We have danced about the sitting room playing some records.  We read a bit of Under Milk Wood out loud every night.  In fact, there are masses of things to do.  
I've decided to go to my allotment every day and treat it more like a farm than a hobby in case of food shortages.  I love shaking seeds into the furrows in the Spring but it is always hard to believe those bits of dust will turn into anything.  When my children were young I bought twenty chickens for my allotment and had masses of eggs until Mr Fox came to visit.  I would love to get some hens now as they are full of charisma and would cheer me up.
Josie

19th March

Since I wrote this on Tuesday the hospice has banned all visitors to Vick and the nurses are wearing gloves, aprons and masks when they go in which makes it difficult for her to lip read.
Somebody there yesterday managed to use her iPad to facetime me, and we were able to chat a bit, but the camera was focused on her ceiling hoist rather than on her face for some reason.  I offered to take her home, but she can't face all the upheaval.  
I had a three-hour Zoom meeting last night, learning the art of dynamic facilitation, and I was amazed by how connected I felt to everyone despite the flat screen.  It was led by a woman called Rosa, and I will put a link to her website, as it is all interesting stuff, about how to communicate better and come up with creative ideas in challenging times such as these. https://www.diapraxis.com/  Growing up in a noisy environment, I think I thought there was never enough time to say what I needed to say, but of course, there is an abundance of time for us all.  We just need to listen better.  
None of us could sleep last night, and we stayed up too late feeling rather nervous.  The malaise continues with my husband and son but so far the rest of us feel quite normal.
Vicky can still receive post, and we wish we could stick messages all over her French doors.  I am going to write her a Mothers Day letter today.
Josie

17 th March

My original plan was to drive to the hospice early this morning after my usual pool swim and write this blog with Vicky.  Sadly, last night my son developed a temperature, cough and flu-like symptoms, and this morning, my husband Danny has an unusual sounding cough.  So we are all in isolation for 14 days.  At first, the hospice said they would never stop me visiting my mum, but I understand now I can't, in case I affect staff or vulnerable patients.  I am just praying that Vicky is still alive in two weeks time.  I couldn't sleep last night with all the worrying, but at least I have a big family and good mates around, so she hopefully won't be lonely.
Other Good Things to Be Grateful For:
1.  Overall I have had a gentle and uplifting 5 weeks visiting Vicky nearly every day and talking and laughing and knitting.
2.  There are five of us in this house including our American lodger, and we have made a strict meal plan so we do not run out of food.
3.  I will probably start obsessively cleaning which I always do in times of anxiety.
4.  I can write and read a lot, and may even lie in bed when not bustling about, as I love my bed.
I am reading three books; Lady In Waiting, about aristocrat Anne Glenconner, Olive Again, by genius Elizabeth Strout, and Walking Eachother Home (Conversations on loving and dying) by Ram Dass and Mirabai Bush.

If we come up with a creative way to get through this I'll let you know.
If the lovely folk who read this are able to visit Vicky any time, please do, and touch elbows with her for me.
Josie

14th March

Vicky and I have been interviewed by Tamzin, a writer and journalist who is writing her MA dissertation on my sister Julia's work in relation to place, and she has been researching her notebooks.  It has been like being visited by Julia, who has been dead for nearly 15 years but we miss her all the time.  Her notebooks are full of nuggets of tasty words, phrases, long distant memories and sketches.  I am reminded of how she electrified the ordinary.  
Vicky, my brother and I have also been remembering the small details of our childhood home and our families eccentricities.  It has been heaven just to sit around and talk.  The one good thing about this Virus is that perhaps we can all be idler, and life can be more simple.  There is so much to talk about.  
Josie


In the future, I have decided I would like all the inspiring cards I have received to be stuck all over my cardboard coffin.
It was interesting to meet Tamzin and look at Julia's notebooks which I had never seen before.  I had forgotten she had a horse But I remembered she lost interest in it so I had to take charge of it when heavily pregnant with Josie. 
We are not worried about the virus here, and life goes on as normal.  
Vicky

10th March

On Sunday a group of us walked through the fields from Ditchling to this hospice with an ordnance survey map.  It was the kind of walk when you have to leap over ditches, wrestle with barbed wire fences and plunge into great muddy ravines.  Actually, most of it was like navigating a swamp after all the rain we have had.  Today my neck and shoulders ache like mad from all the gripping onto branches to avoid skidding in awkward positions.  
When we arrived we burst straight through Vicky's french doors, avoiding the main entrance, leaving our sodden shoes and socks outside.  We then sat around and somebody sang Vicky some folk songs.  The kitchen provided us with hot lunches and we gave Vicky's bedroom a good sweep before we left.
It is now Tuesday and I am here very early as I miss Vicky when I don't see her on Mondays.  My acupuncture clinics were full yesterday but perhaps they will stop with the Covid19.  
I am still knitting the blanket but now it is for a doll, not a real baby.  It is growing bigger, as different women keep doing squares for me.  Knitting with other women is a satisfying occupation; we feel we are all at one in this together.
Josie


I am getting more and more helpless but can still think quite well.  I have had to accept that I will never ever again: do the cryptic crossword in the Guardian, cook a roast dinner, swim, ride a bike, make a quiche, read a novel.  Well, I knew all this some time ago.  
But I can enjoy the beautiful view from my hospice window (sometimes with a donkey). And taste the delicious meals provided.  And also see Josie and other visitors daily.  I am never lonely or bored and I sleep a lot.  I just feel impatient to get to whatever lies ahead. I have no fear.
Vicky.

6th March

We are living the dream this week.  I have spent pleasant hours here at the hospice with Vicky knitting, writing her cards for her, talking, making cups of tea and ordering cheesy chips, and delicious sweet creamy puddings from the kitchen.  I can never imagine this simple life changing, but I suppose it will, one day.
When I get home my 23-year-old son normally cooks.  Enormous vats of stews and soups and pasta and rice which we all guzzle gratefully.  Last night I did my samba drumming with lots of bouncy younguns, and this morning I had a quick dip in the sea with the Kemp Town Kippers, although they stayed in for ages and I leapt out, shrieking with cold after seconds.
Josie


Meanwhile, up in my bed at the hospice, I love having visitors smelling of fresh air and telling me of their exploits.  I also love going over old times together especially when I was warden of the Meeting House in Winchester.  It is wonderful to know the Ditchling Quakers now.  Although I am totally immobile, I am enjoying all the care and support from the nurses.  We talk about our lives and my early nursing training at St Thomas's Hospital as they wash my back.  I am dictating this to Josie as I can't seem to hold the pen.
Vicky

3 rd March

I am sitting here in a glorious ray of sunshine.  I have just eaten a slice of brown bread with W's delicious homemade marmalade on.  I've always felt a sort of link with the Divine about homemade marmalade; the colour, the alchemy of turning bitter oranges into something so delectable, and also that it is made at the start of Lent and lasts for a long time.  
It is wonderful that my pain is under control, and I am having this opportunity to see and hear from people who have been important to me in my life.
Vicky 



I have just arrived at the hospice; having listened to Woman's Hour on the way here.  Jane Garvy was interviewing a woman who has been to Space.  She said that when you look down at our magical little blue planet, you can see mad lines that people have made as borders between countries, and you wonder why people would decide to fight over them.  We have far more in common than our differences.
I must say, I keep thinking about interconnectivity, as it was the theme at my Qi Gong session on Saturday, and at The Inspector Calls at the theatre. It shows how we are all part of the web. Also, I feel aware of so much love around Vicky and am so grateful for all the support.
Here is a quote I heard which sums up how I feel about the hospice.

''Hospice, at its best, is care that is unafraid of death and pain, reverent of the mysteries of life and death, aware of the limitations of medical technology and of the possibilities of love....'' Rabbi Amy Eilberg
Josie

28th February

I have just returned from the hospice.  The NHS funding has been agreed and Vicky has said she would prefer to stay at the hospice for end of life care.  At first, I felt sad and disappointed, as I was a great fan of home births and home deaths.  When I was the team leader for the hospice at home service in Brighton I witnessed some peaceful home deaths in Penthouses overlooking the sea and council houses where no one could read or write.  I believed in de medicalising both birth and death and found my own two home births empowering.
However, Vicky has other views and I must respect her wishes.  Again, I need to let go. She feels safe and settled in the hospice, and despite needing all care, remains cheerful and gracious.  She knows lots of the nurses' life stories and doesn't want to risk going home where the package of care may not be so good.  In fact, she told me to write;

Vicky is overwhelmed by the kindness of the staff as nothing is too much trouble.  She can even order tasty Eggs Benedict.
She is too weak to respond to individual emails and cards but would like to say a huge thank you.  Where did you find such inspiring cards?  She loves them.

She says short visits are welcome.  The hospice is hard to get to on public transport, but once you are there it is very pleasant. I have been ordering hot lunches for the past two days for a small price, and it is lovely to eat cheesy chips with Vicky whilst listening to Mel C on Desert Island Discs this morning for instance.  I tend to go every day apart from Mondays, although tomorrow I am taking Tiger to see An Inspector Calls at the theatre as she is doing it for GCSE.  I never go to the theatre; I much prefer films normally.
Josie

26th February

Josie is urging me to write an entry to the blog.  I am finding it incredibly difficult to hold the pen.  I am so weak just like Beth in Little Women who found the needle too heavy to hold.  
But in some ways, I am better and have had a delicious poached egg this morning.  I also enjoyed spiritual food in the form of a few psalms read to me last night.
We have just celebrated with a virtual twin party for my two 60-year-old sons.  They were both on facetime at once. It was hilarious.  I remember their births on a cold winters day about 4pm in the afternoon.
Vicky


I am so happy Vicky is brighter and enjoying some food again.  It reminds me of a poem my sister wrote called It's Not Over.  I'll just write down the last two stanzas, but the whole thing is good.  Josie

This is the epic last chapter
the firework that won't 
go out, it just keeps spinning.
After the coffees, they bring out
a chocolate mermaid
a pyramid of ice!

Glorious undead drunks
still flail and croon
down Northumberland Street.
They dance for England.
Oddly, it's not over yet.
This is the best bit.  

Julia Darling

25th February

I think I'd always assumed that as Vick makes pastry so quickly, she would do everything quickly, like dying, and both of us thought she might go two weeks ago when she first arrived at the hospice.
However, here we are two weeks later.  I drove the writing group over to see her today.  It was called Nibbles and Scribbles, then Nibblers, then Nibs, then Dumbos, and now it is renamed Bedbugs.  
When we first arrived Vicky was sound asleep and I couldn't wake her up.  I've always known she was a heavy sleeper since she once had a burglar in her bedroom lighting matches and she slept through the whole thing.
Vicky woke up just as we started to read out our scrambled Line and a Word nonsense warm-up pieces.  She then wrote two short pieces herself, and THEN ate some roast chicken dinner!  I hate exclamation marks but I think the chicken deserved one as she hasn't eaten anything like that for two weeks.
We had a chat with the consultant today.  They will try to get funding from the local health authority for Vick to stay at the hospice as she is comfortable there, but if not, I have reassured Vicky I will happily take her home to Dumbrells Court with carers to help me.
I feel quite jubilant she is still around.  It is all as good as it could be.  It is the Way Things Are.
Josie

21 st February

Robbie and I sat at Vick's bedside for a long time today.  She was chatty at times and even ate a spoonful of freshly cooked scrambled egg, not the microwaved kind thank God.  I think her condition has definitely reached a more plateau-like state, and we may be visiting the hospice daily for many more days or even weeks.  
Vicky says she thinks everything is all right.  She has a sense of kind people and pets waiting for her to arrive on a beach, with open arms.  She wishes she could get on the boat to reach them soon.
I am getting on with my knitting.  I'm knitting green and blue squares for a blanket for a baby boy I am fond of.  He is the fifth child like me and he has four older sisters.  
We are having an Indian takeaway tonight for Robbie's birthday, which is a treat.  I can't go to the fundraiser I started to organise a few months ago, as I'm not doing Normal Things, but lots of lovely people have taken it on and I hope it goes well.  The art of letting go is a good thing to practice, even though it feels uncomfortable.
Josie

19th February

Vicky was pleased to have psalms read to her last night from one of the priests from Ely Cathedral whom she knew from a book group.  She had a longing for a ripe Conference pear today so I drove around Ditchling trying to source one until a kind neighbour gave me one. The strange thing is that my sister had the same craving when she was dying.  It was not quite ripe enough but then the hospice kitchen found some tinned pears.  Poor Vicky had had some pain and vomiting today but the hospice nurses were quick to give her injections.  It is generally lovely there at the hospice, and at times like that, I am glad we are not at home as we could never get injections quickly there. 
I have taken up knitting.  It seems wholly appropriate despite my poor technique and lack of fancy stitches.  I also taught Tiger to knit today, so we sat like a couple of old crones by the bedside.  We have some green wool, and I am aiming to create a draught excluder sausage dog, but it is more about the process than the finished product.  
Normal life remains on hold for me.  It is not business as usual.  
Josie

17th February

I have been enjoying writing this blog daily, as it is part of my simple routine when I get back from the hospice, but after today I think I may only report changes if that is OK.
Vicky had some of her old leg and back pain return today which is a shame, so the medications were increased.  She manages to eat the odd piece of melon or mango, thanks to the steroids reducing some of the inflammation in her abdomen.  She craved some sparkling water so we picked some up in the M and S at Gatwick when we collected my son.  It is incredible to see him. I loved seeing some of the international reunions with families as we waited at the Arrivals gate.  A toddler who had not seen his dad for five months remembered him and smiled the best smile.
Vicky's room is like a florist shop and she is overwhelmed with the lovely cards people have sent.  She has been busy getting grandchildren to buy gifts online for other family and friends whose birthdays are coming up.  She is not transferring out of bed now at all, due to her general weakness and fatigue.  
A hospice volunteer gave me some reflexology today which was relaxing.  We will do fundraising for this hospice in the future.  Marathons, midnight walks, bungee jumps?  We must owe hundreds of pounds already just for teabags.  
Josie

16th February

In the midst of Storm Dennis, I really feel Vicky is having some quality of life in this final phase.  She had some heavenly nurses looking after her today and she smiled her lovely smile often when she wasn't asleep.  Tiger showed her some jolly photos on the iPad and I read her some Wordsworth and some Dylan Thomas "Under Milk Wood."  We also drank coffee and played scrabble while she slept, and she listened to Private Passions on Radio 3, which was about Brighton and death; the music on it was interesting.  We also gave her hand massages at the same time as listening to a Buddhist monk in Penang do some chanting for her.  He kept saying "Vicky Darling" but my mum thought he was saying Kitchen Garden as her hearing is not good and his accent is strong.  It was a beautiful moment.
I keep driving through great rivers on the way to the hospice, and I wonder if we will all be washed away.  I am having a day off from my acupuncture clinics tomorrow for the first time ever really. I hope the patients are not too put out but I can't do normal life at the moment.  I am picking up my long lost son from Gatwick at around teatime; it will be great to see him.  My three daughters and my niece and my American lodger are all here at home with me now, we are having leek and potato gratin for supper with vegetarian sausages and Yorkshire puddings.  I hope Vicky has another comfortable night.
Josie

15th February

I went for a walk and cleaned my filthy car before going to the hospice today.  I am fancying old fashioned food like fried eggs and cups of strong Yorkshire tea with full-fat milk nowadays; none of the vegan stuff.  There was a Saturday feeling at the hospice today, although it is pretty relaxed most of the time. Vick seems sleepy and comfy; much the same really.  A midwife friend sent me an eloquent text about Vicky being in the departure lounge, and it is exactly the same with birth.  We may carry on in this strange time for weeks I suppose. 
Lots of people I know seem to have coughs and colds.  I wonder if I will snuff it with the Coronavirus before Vick. 
I can't really do many normal things at the moment, but due to lots of family around with Vick today, I sneaked off to the cinema alone to see Emma.  There was only one ticket left online so I did it impulsively.  As Vick and I have been reading Jane Austen aloud, I loved it.  I loved the colours, and the clothes, and the rooms, and the countryside, and the complex character of Emma.  Nothing much happens in Jane Austen but every look is important. 
Josie

14 th February

Vick was a bit perkier today, much to her annoyance.  She just wants to slip away and feels embarrassed if people think she was just about to die and then hasn't gone and done it.  She even ate a bit of fruit and yoghurt.  Our friend T read her the brilliant poem by Carol Ann Duffy called Valentine, which is about giving your loved one an onion.  
Some of us sat for a while in the nearby bird hide today, as she gets so sick of us all sitting about.  I love the way you just have to be patient in bird hides.  Like fishing I suppose.  Something I am not at all good at.  We saw blue tits, great tits and coal tits.  
I have no idea how long this strange time will go on for.  Vicky remains comfortable, but can't be bothered with seeing us all that much.  I understand; I am sure I would be the same.  I know I have to let her go, although it is hard.
Josie

13th February

Vicky was more comfortable today and looked serene on pink pillows with the smell of hyacinths in the room and her John Lewis nightie on.  We all had a relaxing day, with poetry, and a walk in the ancient woods nearby.  The hospice are generous and hospitable about letting Darlings drift in and out, and use the fridge in her room for snacks, and make endless trays of tea.  We watched the rain and the sun making droplets glisten on the branches, and blue tits out of her French doors.
She is not eating and only taking sips of water, but sometimes wakes up and says something perfectly lucid.  She doesn't seem at all anxious or fearful.  I have told the nurses she is not one to press the bell or make a fuss so they may need to check on her if we are not there.  I am trying to give up any role of being a nurse and just be a daughter.  
Josie

12 th February

It's lucky I have a big family as we all sit around the hospice bed like a tribe of gorillas while Vick dozes.  She doesn't like a lot of fuss and doesn't like to be given choices.  She is taking sips of water or sucking bits of ice but doesn't want to eat.  She has a syringe pump with some morphine and an anti-sickness drug in but the hospice has given very cautious doses and she is sometimes a bit uncomfortable I fear.  We have some poetry books around, some massage oil, and can make regular cups of tea in the kitchen next door.  The donkeys there are called Dudley and Dylan, and we keep discussing boys names for my new great-nephew soon to be born; Vick thought he should be named after one of the donkeys.  I prefer Dudley Darling to Dylan.
It feels good to come home, eat and sit by the fire knowing Vick is safe.  This is a strange time.  
Josie

Later on 11 th February

No community nurses came but Danny and all my three daughters were there and we listened to the Trout Quintet at Vicky's request while the sun poured in, and woodpeckers outside made their presence known.
The kind hospice doctor and nurses whom I know from my job persuaded me it was a good idea for Vicky to go there and she was surprisingly keen as getting to the loo is so hard and there is no sight nor sound of any carer support round the Ditchling area.
We waited for hours while Vicky slept, then two burly ambulance men came around 3pm.  I had always assumed that ambulance men just quickly bunged people in and were gone in two minutes, but these two were a delight.  They were unrushed and caring, and carefully gave doses of painkillers and anti-sickness drugs, and moved in a gentle way.  They discussed Brighton and Hove Albion's performance in detail with Tiger.  We calmly drove down the lanes to St Peters and St James, and they let Tiger and I ride with them.  I wonder if she will be a paramedic as she was interested in everything.
At the hospice, there are donkeys and well-risen cupcakes with icing and cherries and nurses who make you trays of tea and are heroines, and doctors who really listen.  Other family members came and we all relaxed.
Vick looked dignified and comfy and was pleased for us to come home and eat.  
I am feeling tearful and sad but comforted also.  Thank you for the messages.  Anyone can visit Vicky, although she is very sleepy and the disease has progressed.
Josie

11 th February

It has been a bit of a ghastly night, with another doctor coming at 2 am and giving some injections to control the nasty symptoms.  The doctor was a small black woman with the most gentle voice, and she examined Vick thoroughly and said she felt it was cancer causing all this deterioration, not any infection.  She brought with her a huge white man as a bodyguard, as he explained Ditchling can be very rough sometimes and they don't do lone working.  He was helpful with repositioning Vicky as she is finding it hard to move.  
The hospice has offered Vicky a bed, but we are waiting to see if we can get enough support in the community to stay here first.  
It is calm here with just Millie and me at the moment.  Vicky is sleeping all the time.  She seems comfortable at present, and we have suspended all arrangements. Millie and I have had porridge and tea and watched the bunnies jumping outside. I'm hoping the district nurses will come soon with useful supplies.
I know that Vick would want to reassure everyone that she is OK.
Josie

10 th February

I arrived at Vick's bungalow about 6pm today.  I had an anxious sad feeling over the weekend that things were not right as she developed a stitch like pain in her tummy.  She was asleep on the sofa when I walked in and looked grey and said she wasn't feeling good which is unheard of for Vick.  I helped her get into her pyjamas and bed, but it was hard to walk and she had pain and nausea.  I called the GP who came quite quickly and gave her an injection for nausea but had no pain relief injections on him.  Vicky is sleeping now and I'm sitting beside her.  My daughter is coming to help tonight.  I've had some supper and a cup of tea and the washing machine is on.  Vick doesn't want to go to the hospital so we are at home.
The wind outside seems to have died down, but there was a menacing bright light earlier today.  
Vick can't write her section at the moment but I read her mine, and we both send lots of love.
Josie

3 rd February

 The equipment crisis has resolved itself.  The spurned bathing machine sits sadly in the hall waiting to be collected but I love the other stuff; a little four-wheeled chariot with a seat, and the useful trolley.  I still appreciate what my brother calls The Great Mechanical Bed.  Otherwise, I am plunged in gloom over Brexit.  Saturday's Guardian said it all - a wonderful article by Ian McEwan reduced me to tears, and the farewell letters from EU countries were so moving.  
My old Nissan Micra, otherwise known as the Rust Bucket, which now belongs to granddaughter M, broke down in the week.  What a disaster.  In spite of all its dents and bumps, it is a car with a heart of gold.  She has decided to get it repaired and will continue to bail out the rainwater when it collects in the footwell.
Healthwise I've decided not to have any more scans.  I am very happy sitting on the sofa.
Vicky.
Here we are.  I've almost moved into Vicks it feels like, although today due to her new call bell around her wrist she says she would like to try a night alone on Wednesday.  We agreed I could tuck her up in bed perhaps after doing various tasks then arrive first thing in the morning again for breakfast.  I am very happy here, and we are having lovely meals and chats, but I suppose it is nice to be in one's own bed, and for Tiger not to feel abandoned.  I wonder if the cat misses me as much as I miss her in spite of her uncertain temper.  At weekends other family members and friends come, and last weekend I did some samba drumming, learnt shiatsu massage and had a sauna on the beach so I'm not just a Carer.  
When I'm here in Ditchling I sometimes walk around the block to stretch my legs and love the puddles and the oak trees and the mossy smelling twittens and the quiet sense of being under the South Downs.  
I had some Guinness and some red wine with Danny when Dry January finished and it was delicious.  I feel I have lost the bright-eyed pure feeling of no alcohol for 31 days, but I'm ever so pleased January is over.  
Inside Number 9 starts tonight which I usually enjoy.  Better than Love Island anyway.
Josie

28th January

I forgot to mention last week, I had a particularly bleak moment on a splintery wet Wednesday afternoon when Vick realised she could not put her shoes on due to puffy feet, and I drove to the grey roundabouts of Burgess Hill industrial estate to the beige mobility shop.  I bought some enormous shoes with velcro fasteners which Vick finds not a fashion statement.  It is a shame that equipment is so ugly, but it is life-transforming as well.
Vick has had low sodium in her blood which explains the faraway feeling she has, and she is craving peace and quiet.  Shortly, one of my dear nurse colleagues is coming round, and I will dye her hair, but Vick consents for us to discuss in detail every aspect of her physical being, which is nice for me, to check I'm not missing anything.  The community nurse and hospice nurse also come regularly of course, but I'm wary of being too knowledgeable and bossy with them in case they feel undermined so I try and keep schtum.  
I went to see David Copperfield at the cinema with great anticipation but was sorely disappointed.  I couldn't bear the cheerful crescendos of music and general frivolity.  I was hoping for something much deeper and wanted to actually care about the characters, which I didn't.  I did not fall asleep but was desperate for it to end.
Josie

Yesterday was chaos here.  A workman came first to do some odd jobs and started sawing noisily and then a huge consignment of Aids came;  a trolley, an enormous white plastic bath seat which lowers itself at the touch of a button, a four-wheeled pusher and a rail for the bed.  I've still got the Zimmer of course which they would not take away.  I'm overcome by the generosity of the NHS but it is difficult to move in this small bungalow with all this equipment.
The cello and the wheelchair are handily stored at the foot of the bed in the spare room.
Outside the window, a disconsolate fox was walking up and down as if he was waiting for a friend.  The usual gang of squirrels and magpies looked a bit wet, but fortunately today the sun is shining.  I'm still feeling fluffy in the head but I'm just taking each day as it comes.
Vicky

21 st January

Shortly after our last blog poor Vick acquired two nasty infections, but the good news is we avoided a hospital admission.  Luckily due to quick thinking and a helpful GP, we got started on the oral antibiotics straight away, but I'm convinced if we had left it a few hours we would still be stuck in some dismal ward watching the tea trolley being wheeled around and on the IV antibiotics.
Vick has had some times of feeling wuffly in the head as she calls it, but she does not act at all confused.  We have a system of me being here Tuesday to Thursday and sometimes popping in at the weekend, then other family members doing Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday.  It is good to be here at night to help with the hot water bottle top.  We all love being here, it is warm and cosy and pleasant and just like a David Attenborough programme sitting on the sofa and watching the crows and the squirrels.  
Last night I sneaked off to the cinema alone to watch 1917, as I had two great uncles die in that awful war, and I felt I should go.  It was grim but I was absorbed, and it took my mind off my troubles for a while.  My poor mother in law is also struggling, and I often feel quite nervous.  On a positive note, we have a delightful American jazz singer who has just moved in and her Southern accent is most calming.
Josie

I feel down in the dumps at the moment.  It is difficult to carry cups of tea and glasses of water with the Zimmer frame (much as I love him/her, and everything takes twice as long to do as usual.  I have people here most of the time to help.  R came yesterday with snowdrops from her garden and outside the view looks sunny and frosty and beautiful.  I had a quieter day yesterday writing letters, emails and listening to radio Four.  I prefer listening to Radio Four to watching TV nowadays.  I'm fed up with programmes about people buying posh houses and cooking weird meals.  I've even gone off breakfast TV which I used to love as they keep saying the same things over and over again, especially Carol, the weather lady.  
I'm hoping to get to Tiger's school play next week if I can cope.  I haven't been out much lately but perhaps it would do me good.
Vicky.

14 th January

It is a lovely dank January morning and I'm really bored with dry January although I feel ever so healthy.  I'm with Vick in her lamp lit bungalow, with lots of phoning to do.  I have already phoned the GP, pharmacy, hospice, community nurse and electrician.  I helped her with a wash in the candlelight and practised my new shiatsu techniques on her puffy legs, but still need to sort out the mouth, fingers, and prevent any skin damage on the legs by applying copious amounts of moisturiser.  
I handed in my notice from my hospital job last Friday but the acupuncture in the NHS may be expanding.  I feel I need to make a proper rota as Vick may start to need more care now her mobility is not so good.  
I helped behind the bar at an intercultural social club for refugees on Saturday and found I loved it, as I've always wanted to work a till and I'm very happy chatting.  I felt I was in my element in fact.  I could have a future career as a barmaid perhaps.
Josie


The man who brought the hospital bed was not best pleased, as he had to push the bed in the dark along a bumpy path to my bungalow.  He said it was the fourth one he had done that day in Sussex.  But it is a truly wonderful bed with electric controls that lift the head and the feet and I now sleep like a log.  
All sorts of minor ills have occurred in the last week.  A crown fell off a back molar, revealing a decayed tooth that will have to be extracted.  The lights all failed so that we have candles, dribbling wax in the bathroom and elsewhere.  I can't get shoes and socks on my swollen feet and my walking has plummeted.  Also, I have sore fingers and a sore tongue. Otherwise, my health is fine. I am cutting down on the steroids so perhaps my euphoria will evaporate but this hasn't happened yet.
Granddaughter M has been staying and we have been reading poetry aloud at breakfast time which is a really good start to the day.
Vicky