Once again apologies for the delays in this post. Had a gorgeous weekend in Somerset and am only just getting back into routine. As many topics as I still have to write about I thought I would share with you all my feelings about the weekend away.
In a brief statement my weekend away made me feel like an over-protective, over-bearing parent.
Before I had even left London I had called nan 3 times to check she was OK. I called her again when I got to Somerset to discover that the carer had not fed the rabbit, so nan had gone outside. Nan was getting distressed because I could not stop myself asking questions about what the carer had done, and in the end mum had to intervene and tell me to stop. This phone call left me feeling even more guilty about leaving so I spent the rest of the evening feeling sad and with my heart racing.
Mum and I had a lovely morning the next day exploring the sights of Somerset, when we got home for lunch mum decided to call nan. When she did she could hear voices in the background. We called our estate agents, neither of whom had arranged a viewing. So the panic set in again. Our lovely estate agent legged it down to the house to check nanny was OK, and told her off for letting people in the house, despite the many signs on the door, and notes I had left. She also left nanny her phone number so that if people do want to come in nan could check with her. All the while mum and I are in a right tizz!
Eventually we found out the viewers were the viewers from the morning who had turned up late. Mind slightly eased except for the fact that I now add worrying about who the hell nan is letting in the house on top of worrying about medications, back pain, eating, cooking and possible fires, falling inside, falling outside and getting stuck… (and people wonder why I don’t go out).
So apart from the mishaps, and my overactive, over worrying brain I had a great weekend. And scoped some possible bungalows for nan to move into while she is still able to decide she wants to move (the idea of living pretty close to sea, fudge shops and Exmoor National Park helped her make her decision very quickly).
So I got home, went through the carers book, and it turns out the letter I left for the carer had mysteriously disappeared. The letter outlining what I would like them to do for nan while I was away, and asking them to feed the rabbit. I have my own theory about the letter, which I’m sure many of you can guess. I believe nan may have read the letter, decided she could do all that and threw it away. Still as ferociously independent as ever. And proving to me that despite all my fears and worries she is able to cope for a weekend (semi) alone, as long as I can bolt the door shut!