A Different Perspective

I love Brittany and our little house, the Intermarche, Le Scorff where you can get a 4 course lunch with wine for €10.50, sneaking off to a cabin that the kids don't know about with mr. H on the ferry for a bit of us time.
I love lots of things, even home in Wales, very wet Wales.
Several kids down and we think we are in for a quiet,ease yourself into the usual life time.....Funny how fate thinks differently.
Mam has had a really big stroke, she is out of hospital and back home. My eldest sister has moved in with her, which has involved getting a skip and junking a lot of mams stuff.
No 2 sis phones and says I should visit soon, as in now, mam is very funny and is a lot of fun at the moment.
I hear the anguish that she thinks is buried...mam has needed oxygen several times in the night, her 97 yr old heart is struggling to pump.
I steel myself and phone home.
"Ello luv...'s Glooooria. Yur muthers under the dryer...D'y'uh wan me te give er a message?"
Now, do I want to be all Barry or shall I be posh?
I decide that my parents have shelled out on elocution lessons and it would be disrespectful not to put them to good use.
"Yes please Gloria. Could you inform mam that i will visit on Thursday afternoon"
"Rightyo, luv. Yer mams gonna luv tha"

Typical I thought, she can't possibly die with a bad hair do!

Mams fine, well she ate a whole plate of sausage and chips followed by Auntie Bettys' fruit cake. Of course she had said she couldn't eat a thing....but that's part of the game isn't it?

It's my nephew's wedding next Friday...I've bet Mr. H a tenner that's when she'll snuff it. She can't abide anyone else being the centre of attention....and why should she?
97 is a good old age and she is old labour so she won't be waiting for a telegram from the queen.....?
Had yet another visit from big D's social worker....my, is she keen.
Big D seeing mam and dad at last. The previous visit had been cancelled because they didn't have the bus fair.
His mam was very upset as her dog had died, the windows had been smashed in and the television arial cut.
The social worker ooohed..... and i thought, dad has pissed off the neighbours again then. Wonder where they will move to next?
The phone has tintinabulated quite alot since we've been home...and i have let it sing.
Sadly others have been more curious and answered it's pervasive call.
The estate agent called....thought they were a thing of the past.
Viewing on Sunday morning...people from Hampshire (lots of dosh) their house has sold and they are looking for our sort of propeerty (semi derelict)
Actually less of the semi as we are definately detached!

Bugger! Bugger, Bugger!
Last viewing back in April....which means the house has not had a proper, thorough tidy through since then....and it's rained a lot and we've been away for a month so the grass outside is up to my neck!
Why oh why didn't I learn from my mother and follow everyone else in their desire for housework?
Why have we not employed a gardener?
...Oooops I know the answer to that one...because we'd rather spend the money indulging ourselves in France!

Ok. Plan 1....Do the job properly.
Plan 2....Panic.
Plan 3....Strim the hay...put junk in the trailer and bag up everything else in the house and shove it in the van, hoover and dust (if I can remember how)

We opt for plan 4....go to the Indian for a meal, get bladdered and go to bed!