Friday, 4 November 2016


Once I had a voice. And I screamed.


I have no more time to myself.

Idepend on the help I shall, may or might get - or not.

My life is now fully busy with The Girls.

Elder Girl is unmanageable because of her pathologies and because she hates me as I ask her to do things she does not want to do. The Younger follows the example of The Elder.

We have no hours.

They claimed for breakfast at eight this morning and went back to sleep in my arms until half past twelve. I was lucky they remembered they already had their breakfast otherwise we would have taken another one. I washed and dressed The Elder. I supervised and helped The Younger. I cooked their lunch. I made the beds while they were having lunch. I wrote the shopping list. I drank a protein liquid, and tried to e-mail the finance advisor and the Head of the Agency in order to have a planning for November. I was interrupted many times and yet nobody was ready when the Shopping Lady arrived.

No shopping for me as I had no time to wash and dress ... and eat. I am feeling like collapsing every time I move.

I tried to find a book in a card box but the box almost all fell down on my foot that is now swollen and blue, and I have no idea where the book is but a good idea where there is a spider nest.

I wish The Girls were elsewhere but far away from me. I wish I were in my own life with my own things, my own flat, my own friends, music, museums, conferences, exhibitions, books, studies - my life.

I wish I had new books - I mean books I would have never read: dove grey Persephones, green (or not) Viragos, yellow Grey Ladies, those wonderful although never seen Golden Age Mystery books from the British Library, the Fox books and magazines, Mrs Thirkell (those I have not...).

I even wish I had Margery Sharp, Ms Hocking, and all these undervalued women writers, and Daphne Du Maurier (for whom my foot is swollen).

And I wish I had a great, good, strong bottle of whisky or other alcool, and get drunk.

I am told I must assume the consequences of my former decisions and stop crying over myself (and spilt milk).


I have no voice any more.

Monday, 31 October 2016

In need of a word of comfort

I have started writing about what happened to The Little Family during the last month but I cannot end the post. Feelings are too raw and I am overtired.

Elder Girl had to be dashed to hospital after a fit where she convulsed and badly hurt her head and scalp. She had a scan, an electro-encephalogram, various tests, was examined by various doctors and a neurologist, and diagnosed epileptic, which is often the case when DownS persons are ageing and heading towards the end of their lives.

I shall not write about life at home. I shall do this another time. Later. Life is difficult, bleak. I do not know how to cope. I do not have the means to cope and help is distilled drop after drop when I shriek for it.

I am tired of advice from people who do not know what I am going through and what The Girls are going through. Fortunately, I have a few kind friends on Facebook who have helped me go through last week ordeal. Others are only living in their own intellectual sphere without understand.

If you read this, would you please be kind enough to wave, say hello, show that  you are here. No more. I feel alone and lonely. I try to be brave but I am NOT brave at all. I am frightened.

Thank you.