Jaqui's Daily Blog

Piccadilly Circus and Our New Toy

It was even more like Piccadilly Circus at our house today.

 

It's always a little chaotic on a Wednesday morning to be fair, because Kay (who helps to keep our house in order) and Ken (who helps to keep our garden in order) both arrive early on a Wednesday. I have to remember to be up bright and early so that they don't catch me in my nightie. Yesterday, indeed, I disgraced myself by being still in the shower when the guys from the Guild Care charity shop called to collect some unwanted furniture. With Mr B hollering from downstairs that there was “someone at the door!”, I had to wrap myself in the largest towel I own in order to open the door without completely disgracing myself. “We’ll wait a few minutes!” the fellas said, helpfully, clearly appalled at the vision I presented. I'd washed my hair, too, so I looked even more like a drowned rat than usual.

 

That, however, was yesterday. Today was, well, today. I do apologise for Stating The Obvious but you know what I’m like. Kay had phoned me earlier to ask if I would mind if she turned up a little late as she needed to go to the rescue of another of her clients who had spilled coffee over her bed, floor and everywhere and, at the grand old age of 86, required a Helping Hand to clear things up. Her need, I agreed, was definitely greater than mine.

 

This meant that, just before Kay arrived at ours, and shortly after the arrival of Ken the Gardener, the Helpful Fella from the Community Resources Centre turned up to instal a hospital bed in our bedroom for Mr B. If any of our neighbours happens to be of a Nosy Nature (not that I would ever suggest such a thing, of course) they would have had a field day today.

 

My new Best Friend Forever hauls the bed up the stairs, perspiring somewhat. He is only allowed to deliver four beds a day, he tells me, on account of Health and Safety. I apologise for the fact that it may have been a tad difficult getting the pieces of bed up the stairs on account of the stair lift - but he says the passage has been easier than many. His next appointment is to deliver a bed to a fourth floor flat. Hopefully there will be a lift? I say. He wipes his sweaty brow and nods a silent agreement.

 

The bed has a remote control. Mr B will be in his element. There's a button to raise and lower the bed; a button to lift the head; another button to lift the knees. What about the fourth button? I query. My BFF advises me not to use this unless Mr B has a large life insurance in place - if pressed too hard, the person lying in the bed could shoot out of the end of the bed and down the stairs. “It is, of course, up to you…” he adds, darkly.

 

In the afternoon, the lovely Maria from Social Services visits to check out whether we can manage our new toy. She gives us a few helpful hints which I will do my best to remember. She will ring us tomorrow, she promises, to find out how we get on. Mr B pronounces himself well pleased with his bed and says he is prepared to give it a try in the interests of better sleep. For myself, I am just pleased he is so very positive about it.

 

I may not need the Fourth Button after all…

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Latest comments

03.07 | 22:43

Wouldn't have missed it for the world. xx

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12.06 | 02:31

I love that you talk to your plants ... I used to on my allotment ... seemed perfectly rational !

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05.06 | 22:01

Sounds like a perfect day Jacqui, happy birthday for tomorrow, love Val xx

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07.12 | 15:48

what details have you got on your mysterious Wilde?

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