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On Sunday mornings when Aaron is due to come, I nip down to the five-barred gate at the end of the back drive to open it so he can drive his vehicle in.
This morning there was no nipping, because I was bewitched by the light.
Our treasured help performed a variety of tasks today. He painted metal chairs, mended a wooden one that had been smashed by the autumn winds, and weeded more paths.
This afternoon we are visiting The First Gallery, visiting my mother, and going out for a meal with Elizabeth in the evening. It may be that we take Mum with us for the meal. The reason for this is that her domiciliary care has, like everyone else’s, been privatised. This means that it is undertaken by contracted firms whose main object is to make money. The result is rushed and unreliable schedules subject to inconvenient alterations, with or without a warning telephone call.
Mum needs help to get up and shower and to settle herself down for bed. Elizabeth does most other things for her. Today she was informed that the morning visit would be late and the evening early. This could mean starting well after 10 a.m. and finishing well before 6 p.m. In the circumstances Mum cancelled the evening call, so we will come into play. I will report on this tomorrow.
Those who are unaware of the welfare systems here may not know that we have no choice but to have National Insurance contributions deducted from our earnings, and that Local Authorities can keep none of the promises about receiving care free of charge ‘at the point of service’ ‘from the cradle to the grave’. Jackie’s Social Work colleagues from abroad had to have her explain to them why it was that elderly people wondered why they had to pay for these inadequate services. There is much current debate about injecting more money. That will make not the slightest difference because, like so many of our services, the destruction, in the name of Mammon, has already happened.