time

The phone rings. It's 8:30am. It's Mum. She knows never to ring me this early - hasn't done for a year - something must be wrong. She sounds breathy over the line.

"I'm looking out the kitchen window and it's snowing. It looks so beautiful!"
"... really?"
"Yes, I rang P to tell her that [the dog] would be missing this"
"What time did you ring her?"
"Oh, about 9:30"
"Mum, it's only 8:30 now. Are you sure you didn't ring them a bit early?"
"NO, they get up early. They're not like you."
"I'm only saying because you obviously think 9:30 was some time ago and we've another hour to go 'til we get there...."
"... G, I know what time it is."

".....!"


The Warden rang today to ask if we were going to sell Mum's car. He said that the last time it had been used was when I drove it last Summer. Since then, Mum's been using the cheap community taxi service. He told me that he'd received a letter from them asking him to speak to Mum. She'd been bad-mouthing the service after failing to turn up at a rendezvous in and having to pay a normal taxi to get home. I'd heard her side of how they'd left her stranded ages ago - it turns out, of course, that the driver WAS there in the right place at the agreed time and had been extremely concerned for Mum. Even though he eventually drove to the flats to check that she was okay, Mum still spent weeks telling all her neighbours how she'd been let down badly. It's a testament to their good will that they let her continue to use the service.

The Warden also said that after Mum's last visit to the Dental Hygenist, she turned up at his office the next day, claiming she was waiting for a taxi to take her shopping in town. In conversation this drifted into being her appointment with the Hygenist again. He suggested that she rang the surgery to check and when she returned she told him that she was tired and had decided not to go shopping that day.