January 24: Party Time

Have I told you? We're having a party. A leaving party for mum (and us) to say goodbye to the family home. It was decided by my mother and sister on the day I came out of hospital. That day also coincided with news that gran (who spent all of December in hospital too, first with an infection, then a broken leg) could also be discharged. Que – celebration (largely due to the relief of it all.. having one family member in hospital is bad enough, let alone two, let alone when they are in different ones which are twenty miles apart with clashing visitor hours, and it’s snowing). A flurry of texts went out announcing the date while they devoured a bottle – and a second – of red wine. I think mum is now having second thoughts. She’s got 40 ish friends on the list. My sister’s got 10, and counting. I’ve got the same. Plus family – that’s quite a lot.
This is now mum – repeatedly: ‘I can’t have seventy people coming to this party. I’ve got no chairs for anyone to sit on. The house is in a complete mess. Who’s paying for it? I can’t do food for seventy people. I don’t want seventy people at this party.’
We take it in turns to argue with her, ignore her, reassure her, poo-poo her and hide from her while secretly thinking, ‘oh shit, does she have a point?’