2010 — 23 July: Friday
Having fed Bro with one of my unique combination meals (for some reason he's been successfully dodging all my offers of nutritious crockpot creations) the call then went out for an undemandingly mindless "action" movie, so we quickly settled on District 13 as it requires little or no neuronal processing and I, for one, was in no need of that, or mood for it, either. Daughter #3 in London rang in some distress just after the film was over to report that dear Mama's alarm has gone off yet again. Quite what anyone is supposed to do from 150 miles away is a point worth asking of whoever thought it a good idea to give a confused old lady a hi-tech gadget that she can fiddle with, unaware of the consequences of triggering it.
John's decided he will drive us up later today as I'll be repeating the journey again on Monday for a meeting with a solicitor while he and Claire travel up from High Wycombe. Our meeting later today is with her GP, the social worker, and also for me to help take an inventory of what's in the house, which bits and bobs are to be kept and what can simply be cleared out. If we can get a power of attorney sorted out we may even be able to relocate dear Mama down here within a week or so, which would be doubleplusgood.
That's it for tonight. It is, after all, 00:38 and I'm very tired. G'night.
Breakfast to make...
... plus a sandwich or two, and we'll be off. It's 07:50 and pleasantly dull-looking out there at the moment. Traffic (famous last words) does not currently look like a problem.
The mathematical foundation of my world has just been shaken:
The story of Galois frantically writing his treatise on equations the night before1 his death, familiar to all aspiring mathematicians via E. T. Bell's account in Men of Mathematics, is a fabrication.
I expect momentarily to learn that Raytheon's laser cannon has an output power not measured in "Gillettes".
Time (09:09) we weren't here, as we now need to be somewhere else.
Later!
A very long day, but with some progress. Mind you, my respect for solicitors is on a par with that for estate agents and tabloid journalists. It's 23:22 and I'm about to lose consciousness, so that's it for today.