Damp Rose

Blipped many times before, this rose always used to be my mother’s favourite, and it grows just next to the window of her former study.

It was a long day. First I went shopping for my mother and her Polish carer D. So that D could take the afternoon off and go for a walk after the rain had stopped, I sat with my mother, made lots of (decaf) coffee for us, and tried to talk with her. But she didn’t have a good day, and I gave up trying to entertain her with my monologue after an hour or so.

She then read the same page of her newspaper a couple of times, and I stroked her elderly cat Lisa. It is a puzzling effect of her dementia that she lost all interest in touching and cuddling her cat.