Rage
This was the morning of the cremation of Janet, my friend of thirty years.
A call from Rod as I was sorting out sombre clothes to wear. He and Claire took it in turns to literally scream at me about something to do with Ken and Janet's house. It seems that the Canadians had moved possessions around in preparation for taking things back to Canada. Nothing to do with me of course. But I was treated to a stream of abuse from both of them, about the house and how nobody was thinking about Ken. This from the family I had to persuade to take Ken's wellbeing seriously, as I was emptying their father's piss bag and chasing carers and catching Janet's puke in bowls and so on. I gave both of these fucking idiots what for in no uncertain terms.
Unfortunately, after I ended this call I was shaking with anger. It was only by talking to Lorraine, that I began to calm down a bit.
But I was too furious and upset to go to the cremation, where apparently there were unseemly scenes and the funeral director had to step in between the two families. These people are a disgrace to Janet and Ken.
I went to my stained glass window course, which actually made some sense, with Janet being a lifelong champion of crafts. I had a coffee afterwards with Chris, and Adele and a new member called Frances. I then stayed in the cafe and read more of the book, Amateur, by Thomas Page McBee. Then home by bus, and a walk through two parks, unable to dispel my cold anger.
I went to the Park View late in the afternoon, read my book with a very slow pint of Guinness in the sun. This helped a lot, and I went home again, and responded to more of Janet's friends who had replied to my note.
When Lorraine arrived, we went out to order a curry and had another pint, and talked and I thawed out a bit. We went home and scarfed curry. A late call from Hus, who had a long day of mediation and diplomacy.
A call from Rod as I was sorting out sombre clothes to wear. He and Claire took it in turns to literally scream at me about something to do with Ken and Janet's house. It seems that the Canadians had moved possessions around in preparation for taking things back to Canada. Nothing to do with me of course. But I was treated to a stream of abuse from both of them, about the house and how nobody was thinking about Ken. This from the family I had to persuade to take Ken's wellbeing seriously, as I was emptying their father's piss bag and chasing carers and catching Janet's puke in bowls and so on. I gave both of these fucking idiots what for in no uncertain terms.
Unfortunately, after I ended this call I was shaking with anger. It was only by talking to Lorraine, that I began to calm down a bit.
But I was too furious and upset to go to the cremation, where apparently there were unseemly scenes and the funeral director had to step in between the two families. These people are a disgrace to Janet and Ken.
I went to my stained glass window course, which actually made some sense, with Janet being a lifelong champion of crafts. I had a coffee afterwards with Chris, and Adele and a new member called Frances. I then stayed in the cafe and read more of the book, Amateur, by Thomas Page McBee. Then home by bus, and a walk through two parks, unable to dispel my cold anger.
I went to the Park View late in the afternoon, read my book with a very slow pint of Guinness in the sun. This helped a lot, and I went home again, and responded to more of Janet's friends who had replied to my note.
When Lorraine arrived, we went out to order a curry and had another pint, and talked and I thawed out a bit. We went home and scarfed curry. A late call from Hus, who had a long day of mediation and diplomacy.
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