I'm keeping going by filling my days with soothing shit.

Walking along the beach, heading west in chunks of about two miles at a time, at low tide, on the hard sand.

I'm now into unknown territory and need to find a new place to drive to and park but discover I've arrived at an ancient private estate spread along the beach, lots of big houses, lots of big notices which can be summed up as 'OK, poor fuckers, we will let you onto our land, but don't even think of enjoying it, it's OURS.' So I stomp along, full of revolutionary fury. It is the end of the world as we know it - vile times.



I like it best when the sky is heavy and the light is drear and there's barely a soul to be seen. Today was sunny and a Saturday - whoa - where did all these fuckers come from?

Mother's Day last Sunday was hard - it's taken me all week to even begin to get my head round it. We (me and Younger Daughter) took Grandson up to the care home to see his mum, then took her into awful Uxbridge to meet Son and all have a meal. Man, she can't hold her torso at all now, just slides sideways in the chair, and her head's too heavy. She didn't speak at all, though she did smile and laugh a bit and held intense eye contact with me. And she can't sniff or swallow any more so she drools and needs constant wiping, which broke all our hearts really. We just kept going, ate a meal, had a coffee, walked about, hugged each other tightly. People look at us now, with disgust or pity or some fucking thing and it's all I can do not to just push them over onto the wet street - Jesus, no one knows how close to this they could be. I hate them with such a depth, these people with their healthy families and unburdened spirits, fuck them, fuck them all.

I thought my heart was already done, but it seems not. We have to move her down here. She needs more visitors - well, she needs a new wheelchair that tilts so she can just lean back and be supported - they're on it and will know by the end of next week whether one can be obtained or if I need to do another fundraiser - but she needs to be down here with us. So I need to speak to SIL, then get the MS nurse to call a 'best interests' meeting, with all the professionals and us, and we can thrash out what would be best for her, but I know she needs to be near us and have a visit every day - SIL only goes at weekends and that's no good - she needs love and interaction - well love, that's what she needs all around her, my poor darling girl. She needs to be with me and I need to be with her.

Fucking facebook's 'On this day' thing showed me pics of me and her three years ago - 'off road' in the wheelchair, before she was in the home, laughing. And another of her and her sister, from five years ago, grinning into the camera, ED poking her tongue out - she was still standing up then, possibly still working - I've lost track of what happened when, but honestly, seeing her face all lit up with consciousness. Remembering who she was

I don't know how I'm going to keep going through this next bit.