I have turned bad: I wish my mother dead. My poor dear little lonely Mummy. She could die naturally of a heart attack now but she wants the operation which will save her. She could die naturally or go on living for another 10, 15 years. Who know how long. I don’t want to look after her for another 10, 15 years. I want my brothers to do their fair share. It’s not fair the way things are. I said to her, ‘You have been wanting to die for the last two years but now you want to live. You want the operation, is that right?’ She nodded. She nodded as though not thinking. She had done her thinking.
Buddy called today and and told me what an excellent time he had with R in Holland. His voice was full of laughter as it always is. It made me furious and before long I was shouting at him. He had the gall to tell me that I had said that I wanted Ma to live with me, all those years ago in Scotland. I yelled, ‘How dare you say that!' This role has been dumped on me unasked for.