A 6am start this morning to take the RW to the airport. She's off to Welsh Wales to see her new grandchild Isla for a few days, laden down with gifts, not only from us, but from members of St Aug's too. So, a few days for myself, and peace perfect peace in The Rectory. The dogs and cats are a handful, but I can at least rule the roost until Friday.
Oh! Cards will be printed and posted, and a lot of admin including dastardly Parish Returns might also be done.
However, grandchildren, or the thought of them, bring a smile to my face. Graham, my son, and his beautiful partner Angela, are about to present me with my own first grandchild on or around January 13th, and I'm beginning to realise that this is no longer in the distant future. So Santa could well be bringing me a cardigan, pipe and some comfy slippers so I can at least look the part!
It's certainly making me think of generations just now. My dad is suffering badly from dementia just now, and visits are a heartbreak. His care home is fantastic, but he's not the most popular chocolate in the box when he head-butts staff in his anger and frustration. The old Glasgow Kiss is something he remembers OK, and that's upsetting for all.
If the cigarettes don't kill me first, I often wonder how things would be if it was me in a care home. I pretend that it would be fine and I would cope, but I know I wouldn't, and I'd feel as sad and abandoned as my dad feels just now. That engenders feelings of guilt, but I know we couldn't even begin to give him the care he needs. Frank Downie House staff in Dalmuir are just fantastic and they give him the best life possible.
Recently I have been dreaming of my deceased mum, and I remember how close they both were, a real loving partnership. I pray often that dad would just have a massive stroke, or something, pass away quietly and be with her again. I don't know if that's a good prayer or not, a selfish or a self-less prayer, but I know that his funeral, when it comes, will be one of gratitude that my Old Man will have been released from the pain he's so obviously in at the moment.
Another generation is about to be born, and I guess that's just the way of things.
And will this new child visit me in my care home? Naw! He'll be too busy playing for Partick Thistle Nil!