19 July 2013
The novel I am reading at bedtime is "My brother Michael." by Mary Stewart. I have always enjoyed her writing as the story usually takes place in some amazing holiday destination ,published in 1960 there are no mobile phones or ipads with not a tablet in sight. Hayley Mills of whom I have always been a fan starred in the film of one of her novels The Moon-Spinners.
One day I hope someone will publish a book about my brother Griff Wason who is a technical illustrator. I would like my niece Lucy Bishop to write the story of my life into a family saga type novel as I feel that when she becomes a mature older person her bent novel be writing. I intend to leave her all my emotional diary's also those of my mother Joan Wason that date back to 1932.
The sun is shining in a deep blue sky this morning Edward Harry is still in bed waiting for me to making him his first cup of tea of the day.
We have been having such a dreadful time lately as his health has let us down causing depression to reign in our household. I should say that Edward Harry is almost eighty years old and I am sixty-seven and both our body's are beginning to pack up.
Preparing for heaven they are demanding our daily attention to quirks and pains which are steadily making their presents felt. Back pain is my number one attention seeker from morning to night I have to be careful not to aggravate it, I have not been able to push the vacume cleaner around the floors in our home for at least nine years with out agonizing pains running up and down my spine durring the evening .
These days when cleaning a home is suposed to be quick and easy by all accounts you will see me wearing my green garden knee pads craweling about on all fours in our home accross the orinional wood floors directing the stretchy nosel of my vacume into the cracks and round corners sucking up the dust and general grime of the house. It takes me such a long time craweling around the floors that lately the elecrticity over load keeps on checking in and switching off all the electrivity in the house.
My left ear if neglected will send a nagging pain just like a flashing red light into my brain to remind me of its powerful existence should i not plug it full of wax whenever i shower of wash my hair. I am forced to take it on regular visits to the E.N.T clinic where only the attention of the nurse and Dr there will satisfied it with micro suction clearance every six weeks.
Edward Harry is being torchered with rumatism his sufferings are such that he is now unable to step into or out of the bath for his morning and evening shower in comfort. The pains in his wrists are preventing him from working in his studio where he paints in oils and watercolours most days, he cannot manipulate his brushes without hardship caused by the compainionship of his continual pain.