Wind; sound of; plus mewling cat, plus dishwasher, plus washing-machine....Life ad infinitum. Have given up on somewhat dreary choral music from Radio Clasica. Sun. At least the trade winds haven't yet brought the non-stop cloud to our windy heights.
Beloved is off sorting out dog and attic woman, followed by smoked fish. Handsome from Blackburn hasn't appeared. Suspect this may be to do with terminal offence taken over cabbages no less. Our first day back on Tuesday not a happy one. First day back never is for me, the sense of exile overwhelms me at the best of times - and here exacerbated by state of aged dad, by feeling strung between crisis phone calls - re attic woman this end, dad the other. Anyway: handsome asked if he could remove some of the remaining ground cover plant from back patio, permission for which granted; unfortunately, being tidy - obsessively tidy - man, he also removed Beloved's artistically arranged pile of wood through which he's attempting to grow things - in vain as yet - and worse, my self-planted cabbages, big blowsy, almost turquoise green, delicious to look at and even to eat now I've found an Indian recipe with coconut which even Beloved likes. (In general he hates brassicas. Claims they give him wind.Not to mention the runs.) Beloved indicated as usual understated objection to wood removal - he has now put it back. I do not understate anything: in my fragile not to say depressive state, I blew up over the cabbages, Handsome from Blackburn not happy, claimed I was rude - I was, though I apologised afterwards. I then retired to bed with book, thereby equally offending Beloved - 'Do you know how long you've been there, five hours....' - he hasn't yet learned that retreat is my way of dealing with overwhelming feelings and not at all - never - directed at him - 'You made it plain you didn't want me,' etc..so ended day fighting with him too. Marriage. (Or rather unmarriage, for us.)
Attic woman problematic too, had another seizure on Sunday. And Spanish lawyers, her brother's and ours, not communicating with anyone - they seem, permanently, to be in court. Sticking point, reason for lawyers, who forbid direct communication between the parties, is brother's desire to punish beloved for not only giving up care but living with me, thereby compounding his perfidy. Chief carer says such a moral line is common. But also suggested cutting Gordian knot by meeting between Beloved's daughter and her uncle to circumnavigate non-communicating lawyers. I talk to daughter at length - so it may happen. She meantime has broken up with boyfriend - 'We're in different places..' she says. When I tell him this Beloved asks What I mean by 'in different places'. Sighing, I explain. If daughter more communicative with me it's hardly surprising. I love them both, none the less. Both also seem to love me. Fortunately.
(Just rescued lizard from cat. Never knew lizards squeaked. They do. High, like mice.)
Took attic woman out to lunch yesterday, tho'. It was OK, if boring. She wasn't hostile like last week, though as confused. Ate more too. Apparently she's back to 'Why can't beloved (hers and mine) come back.' But still wants to see more.
No more word on aged pa. We wait. We wait. Now it seems interminable. But from past experience of long dyings it will seem as nothing once it's over.